


We All Build Our Ruins

by kuriositet



Category: Bandom, Comics RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, High School, M/M, Pining, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/kuriositet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a young teacher only a few years out of college who means well and wants to make a difference, but when the High School Junior Gerard is in trouble and Frank helps him out, he feels responsible for him and ends up bringing work home with him. Things go downhill when his long-term relationship ends and he's got nowhere to turn but to Gerard, whom he can't help but grow dangerously close to. Frank has to try to stay away from him, but that might be easier said than done, especially when Frank finds out that there is another teacher who knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Build Our Ruins

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [](http://pfriemelchen.tumblr.com)[**pfriemelchen**](http://pfriemelchen.tumblr.com) and [](http://happilyappled.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**happilyappled**](http://happilyappled.dreamwidth.org/) for encouragement, love and beta.

It’s a terribly cold Tuesday in January when Frank for the umpteenth time goes to print an English test for the next day only to find that the printer at the teachers’ lounge is once again out of order. Sighing deeply, he just clutches his USB flash drive tighter in his hand and turns on his heels, going off to find another printer to use or a janitor to tell about the faulty printer, but it’s so late in the afternoon that there’s hardly anyone left in the school. He passes by the library, thinking he might use their printer, but only finds a note saying they had closed early today, so he continues down the corridor to the Art classroom, which had its own set of computers and a printer. It’s supposed to be for the Art students only, but if he can’t find any other working printers, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? And he only really uses it for emergencies. Collins, the Art teacher, has never complained either, so Frank figures it’s okay.

“Hey Collins, can I use your printer? The one by the teachers’ lounge is busted again—” The door is unlocked so he walks straight inside, doesn’t bother to knock since school is out anyway and, at first, he doesn’t see anyone there. When he does, he shuts up immediately and almost drops the USB flash drive in his hand in shock. 

There’s a kid in there, a student, but Frank doesn’t know his name or what year he’s in because he’s not in any of Frank’s classes, and the kid is half naked. He’s in a corner, shirt and hoodie draped over the back of a chair and book bag dropped to the floor next to it, hands busy undoing his belt. The kid is staring at him and Frank stares back for a long moment, practically frozen in time, before finally turning to look at Collins. He is standing in the middle of the classroom, a bunch of large sheets of paper spread out over the table in front of him, as well as a folder labeled “Gerard” that matches the size of the sheets.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Frank finally exclaims, and he sees the kid flinch through the corner of his eye. He doesn’t care that he just swore in front of a student, he can’t even remember what he’s doing in the Art room; he’s just so shocked, so disgusted, so terrified at having walked in on something like this. 

“Put your fucking clothes on,” he snaps at the kid, and turns to Collins again. He looks disturbingly calm, and Frank shudders. “What is that, let me see.” He gestures at the sheets of papers that he now realizes are drawings. He reaches for them and, when he finally gets a good look at them, he thinks he’s going to be sick. He gathers them up in the folder and holds it tight in his hand and turns to the kid again. He’s fully dressed now and his long black hair is falling in his face, which is pale, pale white.

“You’re Gerard, right?” The kid nods. “What’s your last name? What year are you in?”

“Way. I’m a junior.” Frank nods and looks around again, feeling sick when his eyes land on Collins, who still hasn’t said a word.

“Come on,” Frank says to both of them. 

“Where are we going?” Gerard asks, clutching his book bag to his chest, looking from Frank to Collins and back again.

“To the Principal’s office,” Frank says, trying to stay calm and be nice to the kid. The kid hasn’t done anything wrong, he tells himself. It’s Collins; he’s the creep, the asshole, the man Frank had thought was a good guy and who had shown him pictures of his two kids over lunch several times last semester. “It’s okay, Gerard. You’re not in trouble.”

“Then can I go home?” Gerard asks, and Frank sighs, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

“Not yet.” When they reach the Principal’s office, Frank is more than relieved to find the school secretary still at her desk, working. “Vicky, is the Principal available?”

“Yes,” she replies with a blazing smile, but it quickly falters as she looks them over, finally settling on Gerard who is paler than a ghost. “Is there anything wrong, Mr. Iero? Mr. Collins?”

“I’d rather take it directly to the Principal, if you don’t mind,” Frank says as politely as he can.

“Of course. Just go straight in.”

“Thank you,” Frank tells her before turning to Collins. “You wait here.”

“Mr. Iero, what a surprise,” Principal Schechter exclaims when they enter, before adding, “And Mr. Way, isn’t it?” Gerard nods, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off the floor. “Please have a seat. What can I do for you today?”

“I think you should take a look at this,” Frank says, handing him the folder with Collins’s drawings of Gerard before sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Schechter’s desk. “I happened to enter the Art classroom this afternoon to borrow the printer in there, and found Mr. Collins preparing to make another drawing like that.” He throws a sideways glance at Gerard, who has sat down as well and is curling in on himself as much as he can. 

Schechter presses a button on the intercom on his desk and asks Miss Asher to call Gerard’s parents, telling her it’s incredibly urgent and that someone has to come down there right away. They only have to wait for fifteen minutes before Miss Asher opens the door and lets an elderly woman in, introducing her as Mrs. Rush, Gerard’s grandmother. Frank gets up and pulls up another chair from where it’s standing by the wall for her, on the other side of Gerard, before sitting down again.

“What is this about?” she asks, taking a seat as she unbuttons her long red coat and unwinds a thick scarf from around her neck. Her face is flushed from the cold, and Frank wonders if she had walked here. “Gerard?” she asks her grandson, but he doesn’t answer or even look up at her.

“Mrs. Rush,” Schechter says in a very grave voice. “I’m afraid what we have to discuss is of a rather delicate nature. I want you to know that none of this is Gerard’s fault. He is not to blame for one second and, although you might be shocked, I need you to remember that.”

“What is going _on_?” she asks again, and the Principal explains to her how Frank had found Gerard with the Art teacher and, despite some weak protests from Gerard, shows her the drawings. She doesn’t say anything, but purses her lips and goes just as white as Gerard.

“Gerard,” Principal Schechter says, turning to Gerard now, “Is this you in these pictures?” Gerard doesn’t look up, but nods. “Can you tell us about them? Why… when did it start?”

“Last semester, in September,” Gerard says, so quietly that Frank can hardly hear him. “He knows I want to go to Art school in New York, so he said that if I modeled for him, I’d get extra credits and he’d talk to his contacts at different schools and make sure I got in.”

“And you never questioned the fact that you had to take off your clothes?” Schechter asks, and Frank wishes he could see Gerard’s face, but he’s got a curtain of black hair completely blocking the view.

“It wasn’t like that at first. He only told me to undress after three or four times.” Frank can’t help but shudder at the idea of Collins ordering Gerard to take off his clothes, threatening him that if he didn’t do it, he would receive no help to get into a good College. “To be honest, it didn’t seem like that big a deal. I mean, he’s an Art teacher, it’s not the first time he’s worked with a— with a nude model. And he never touched me. He never—” Gerard finally looks up at them, but he is careful to only look at Frank and the Principal, completely ignoring his grandmother, which Frank can understand. “Is that what this is about? You think he touched me, right? That he made me do things? Because he didn’t.”

“Gerard, it’s great that he didn’t touch you, but I’m afraid that that doesn’t really change anything,” Schechter says, sounding surprisingly compassionate for a man Frank had always perceived to be strict and harsh. “You’re only sixteen years old. You’re a minor, and legally you’re only a child. These drawings are child pornography.” 

Gerard makes a choked sound, but doesn’t say anything. Frank doesn’t know what to say, or do. He hadn’t even thought that far, he had only seen the drawings as evidence of seriously inappropriate behavior, evidence that he had in fact walked in on Gerard stripping in front of Collins. The only thing he had considered had been getting Collins fired and making sure he never got to work with kids ever again. This, however, this they would have to take to the police.

“But it’s not…” Gerard starts, but his grandmother shushes him and Frank looks over to see her stroking Gerard’s right arm soothingly. 

“Principal Schechter, I trust you will take care of this? As you said, Gerard isn’t to blame for this, and so it doesn’t seem fair that he has to press charges and deal with lawyers and attorneys,” Mrs. Rush says, her voice cooler than Frank would expect, but he supposes that she still isn’t quite over the shock of finding out that her grandson has been turned into an object of child pornography by his teacher.

“Of course,” Schechter replies. “I will have this turned in to the police right away and make sure it gets taken care of.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Rush says, standing up to shake Schechter’s hand, before turning to Frank, who stands up as well. “And thank you, Mr. Iero.” He takes her hand, and is surprised at how firm her grip is, and squeezes it once.

“Don’t thank me. I just did what anybody would have done.” She smiles and lets go of his hand before leading the way out of the room, Gerard trailing behind her and Frank going next. There’s no sign of Collins out there, and Frank figures he took off, probably trying to leave town due to shame or fear of the cops coming after him. It angers him, but it’s not like he can do anything about that. There is, however, something that he can do. “Mrs. Rush,” he says, raising his voice because she’s already reached the door leading to the corridor. “Do you mind if I have a quick word with Gerard?”

“Not at all,” she says, but Gerard doesn’t seem happy at all to talk to Frank. They sit down on a small sofa in a corner, though, just out of earshot from both Gerard’s grandmother and Miss Asher as long as they keep their voices down.

“What do you want?” Gerard snaps, and Frank sighs softly.

“I know that right now you seem to think that this isn’t a big deal, that it’s not as bad as we say it is, and that you’re not troubled by it, but that may come to change. You might want to talk to someone, and I’m sure you’ll be encouraged to do so, but I can also imagine that old Mrs. Greene is not someone you’d want to talk to about something like this,” Frank says, and smiles when Gerard nods, seemingly agreeing with Frank’s opinion on the school counselor. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me, whenever you want or need to, as soon as you’re ready.” Gerard looks skeptical, so Frank adds, “Think about it. I’m already involved, I know the full story. You can just come to me and lighten your chest, and I swear to you, I won’t tell a living soul.”

Gerard nods, but doesn’t say anything before getting up to leave. 

“Just think about it,” Frank calls after him, wanting a response, but not getting any. Schechter pops his head out and tells Frank he might need to leave a statement for the police, and Frank asks when.

“Not today. You should go home.” Frank nods. “You did well today, Frank. You have no idea how much easier I feel sitting in here when I know people like you are out there looking after those kids.” Schechter pats Frank’s shoulder.

“People like me and Collins, you mean.”

“Not anymore.”

Frank does go home after that, his mind completely void of everything until he enters his apartment and changes his jeans to sweatpants and finds his USB flash drive in the pocket and realizes he never printed the English tests.

*

He crashes on the couch after that, sleeping for too long and only waking up when his boyfriend ruffles his hair and kisses him. “Hey sleepyhead, I got some Indian takeout for you.”

Frank sits up blearily, rubbing his eyes and trying to figure out why his bedroom looks just like the living room for a moment before remembering he’s not in the bedroom. “What time’s it?” he asks and smiles sleepily as Aaron sticks a can of coke in his hand and urges him to drink some. It’s ice-cold and he shudders, but at least it wakes him up a little.

“It’s just after seven. I thought I’d be home earlier, but me and Ray got a little carried away when working on some new riffs and ended up writing a whole song.” Aaron sits down next to him and starts opening the lids to what smells like their favorite chicken tandoori. Frank goes for the rice and empties half of it in his tub of chicken before handing it to Aaron. “Wanna hear it later?”

“Wha’?” Frank says around a forkful of rice and chicken.

“The song?” Aaron repeats, giving Frank a playful shove as he adds, “Are you listening to me at all?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” Frank lies and then shoves some more chicken into his mouth. Aaron just looks at him, eyes bright blue and very skeptical, and Frank swallows and sighs. “I’m just tired, okay. I had one of the worst days in my life and I’m sorry, but I can’t really think about your music right now.” He sits back in the couch and just eats then, and only realizes when he’s almost finished that he’s forgotten to even ask if Aaron had gotten naan bread as well. As if he’s reading his mind, or if he just knows Frank that well after six years, Aaron hands him a piece of bread just then. Frank shifts a little and curls up against him, leaning his head against Aaron’s shoulder. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks, and Frank thinks about it as he munches on the bread.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispers, “but it’s not really something I can talk about, I think.” Frank isn’t exactly sure about how the confidentiality thing works in cases like this. It’s not just something he’s been told, it’s something that’s happened in his life too, and that’s left him shaken up. He is going to have to talk to the police about it, and it feels like he should at least be able to tell his boyfriend what’s wrong. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay,” Aaron whispers in his ear, and they finish eating. When they’re done, Aaron takes the empty cartons and sets them down on the coffee table before sitting back and wrapping an arm around Frank, who curls in even closer. He plays with the hem of Aaron’s shirt before slipping his fingers in under it, stroking the skin and splaying his palm over it, feeling his warmth.

“I’m glad you’re home right now. Today,” he whispers and feels Aaron breathe into his hair. Then he feels Aaron shift against him, and he’s kissing down Frank’s neck. The hand that isn’t around his shoulders starts stroking over his thighs and crotch, and Frank sighs, pulling away. “Not right now.”

“Fine,” Aaron snaps and gets up, walking into the bedroom. Frank can hear him opening his guitar case and knows he will come back to the living room any second because that’s where Frank’s amp is. He gets up, gathering the cartons and used napkins left after the meal and takes it out to the kitchen to throw it away. He hears soft strumming from the other room, and he wants to go in and listen, or maybe join in, but knows from experience that it’s better to just let him brood for a while, especially when Aaron is mad about absolutely nothing. He digs some frozen lasagna out of the freezer for lunch the next day, and cuts up some vegetables for a salad, all while listening to Aaron play three songs Frank recognizes. Not the new one he just wrote. 

He puts the salad in the fridge and goes out to listen to Aaron play, and he immediately starts playing something Frank hasn’t heard before. He doesn’t look down at his fingers once as he plays, keeping his eyes focused on Frank, and then he starts to sing softly. Frank has half a mind to pick his acoustic off the wall and join in; the chords are easy enough, but he reminds himself that this isn’t his song, not his band, not his life anymore. It’s been five years since he left the music scene and went to college, but he still misses it more often than not. Especially whenever Aaron is off tour and always around, playing and writing songs and talking about band practice. 

The song ends, and Frank takes a few steps further into the room.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers. Aaron turns off the amp and puts the guitar down before getting up and standing right in front of Frank.

“I was thinking about you all afternoon when I wrote it. I couldn’t wait for you to hear it.” He kisses Frank, who just kisses back, relishes in the feeling of being held so closely, of being safe, because today it’s just what he needs. He pulls away when Aaron’s hands start to wander again, though.

“I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood.”

“Frank, I’m leaving again on Thursday,” Aaron points out.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that? I am very well aware of the fact that you’re always away for months at a time only to come back for less than a week at home which you hardly even spend with me, except for when you want to rub another one of your songs in my face or want sex.” Aaron just stares at him, looking like Frank just punched him in the face. Frank feels like he just punched him in the face. The thing with Aaron is that he always punches back.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Frank doesn’t know. He has no idea, but Aaron presses on, “Music is my life, Frank. It used to be yours too, don’t pretend you don’t know what touring’s like. You chose to give that up. I didn’t.”

“Do you seriously think we would even be together if I hadn’t? If we were both still touring and never in the same city for more than a couple of hours?”

“Are you saying you want me to quit the band?”

“No, I’m saying that I want you to respect me. I have given up all of my biggest dreams to have a normal and stable life, and today fucking sucked, and I want you to fucking get that,” Frank says, raising his voice more and more.

“Then fucking tell me what’s wrong so I can understand!” Aaron practically yells, and Frank decides that he’s done doubting whether or not he’s allowed to even mention what happened today. 

“You really want to know?” he asks quietly. “I walked in on a kid stripping for another teacher today. To get help to get into College. The teacher drew him. Naked portraits of a sixteen year old. That’s child pornography. That’s one of my colleagues. Who has little children of his own.” Aaron just stares at him. “So I’m feeling a little disgusted with the world right now and I’m not in the mood for sex.”

Frank goes to get ready for bed, not waiting for Aaron to respond. He spends as little time as he can in the bathroom, and then crawls straight into bed, not bothering to kick his sweatpants off or anything. He falls asleep surprisingly easy.

When he wakes up a couple of hours later, the alarm clock on the nightstand showing it’s twenty past eleven, he doesn’t feel as angry as before. He doesn’t even move away when he feels Aaron pressed up against his back, cheek against his neck, an arm around his waist. Instead he pushes back against Aaron’s warm, solid body and he doesn’t need to say anything because this is his way of apologizing, and Aaron gets it. He kisses Frank’s neck and pushes his t-shirt out of the way and touches Frank’s skin, his stomach and his chest, pausing to circle his nipples in that way that drives Frank crazy.

Frank is almost hard already, and he pushes his sweatpants and underwear down and tries to kick them off but they get stuck in the covers, around his calves. It doesn’t matter though because Aaron is rock hard against his back and pushing against him with slick fingers, pushing one and then two inside, and Frank just moans, shoving back against him, riding his fingers. Then it’s Aaron’s cock, and he’s not gentle, he doesn’t go slow; he gives Frank exactly what he needs. Frank is wound up so tight he knows he won’t last long, so he doesn’t touch himself, he merely clings to Aaron’s arm around his waist with one hand and moves the other one to the back of Aaron’s neck. He pushes down, pressing Aaron’s mouth harder onto Frank’s shoulder where he is going to have one hell of a hickey. 

He comes like that, with a small groan which Aaron echoes as he rolls them over, pushing Frank into the mattress and fucking him harder, driving into him deep, again and again. Frank rocks his hips up against him, wanting to take him deeper, harder; wanting to feel Aaron in him for days, even when he’s touring on the West Coast. When Aaron comes, he‘s deep inside Frank and Frank can feel him shudder all over.

Aaron pulls out without a word, and Frank just smiles to himself when he feels his come trickling out of him. Frank goes to have a shower, still without saying anything and, when he comes back out, Aaron has changed the sheets without Frank even asking him to. He thinks about how they haven’t exchanged a single word since going to bed, and he wonders if it’s because they just know each other too well, or if it’s because there’s nothing left to say.

He crawls into bed, feeling exhausted despite sleeping so much earlier. Aaron spoons him from behind, his body warm and safe. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

*

It’s the first day of February when Frank is hunched over a too large pile of papers on various Shakespeare plays, on the verge of just giving up and falling asleep on top of them all, when there’s a sharp knock on the door to his office.

“Come in,” he calls, relieved to be given a break, but relief soon turns into surprise when he sees it’s Gerard. They haven’t talked since that day, and Frank has hardly seen him either, then again that’s hardly surprising when working at a big public High School with thousands of kids. “Gerard,” he says and, when Gerard just looks at him, still standing in the doorway, he asks, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Gerard looks a lot like he had that day in Schechter’s office, dressed in all black, clutching his book bag to his chest and a curtain of black hair over his face. He’s not quite as pale though, and his eyes look angry rather than frightened. He steps inside and closes the door carefully and doesn’t look at Frank as he takes a seat in the chair on the other side of Frank’s desk. Frank just sits there, waiting for him to talk.

“The new Art teacher sucks,” Gerard finally says, and Frank nods, waiting for him to go on. “She doesn’t even know anything about Art. She’s just some dumb substitute who thinks we’re kindergarteners that she can just tell to ‘play with the water colors’ or something.”

“Well, it’s just been a couple of weeks, right? Give her some time. I’m sure Miss Williams will get used to teaching Art and figure out some things for you to do.” Frank can’t help but feel like he has to defend the girl who was straight out of College and who had told him she wanted to teach music, but she had to start somewhere to pay off her loans. Frank had been in the same position when he graduated, but thankfully he had gotten a place here after just one year of subbing at different schools in the area. One time he had been forced to teach math for two weeks and that had been something of a nightmare considering he had barely even passed it when he was in High School.

“But she’s terrible! This is exactly what happens when they have to hire someone in the middle of the year.” Frank sighs, but before he gets a chance to respond, Gerard adds, “And it’s all your fault.” Frank looks straight at him because he doesn’t feel hurt or even surprised at the accusation, but curious as to how Gerard is really doing. “I was _fine_. He wasn’t doing anything to me. He was going to help me get into College. And then you had to go and stick your nose where it didn’t belong and you ruined everything.”

Frank still doesn’t say anything, just looks at Gerard and waits for him to get everything out. The truth is that Frank has been waiting for something like this, and he has looked a few things up about kids and different kinds of trauma and how they might react. Blame was always mentioned. Frank is only relieved that Gerard isn’t blaming himself.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Gerard asks, apparently done. 

“What do you want me to say?” Frank asks, looking at Gerard and finding his eyes. He looks defiant but scared, and like he really just wants to talk. “How are you doing, Gerard? Class ended an hour ago. Are you really trying to tell me you waited all this time after class just to tell me you hate your new teacher and that I fucked up your life?” Gerard just gapes at him, probably expecting to get yelled at.

“I already told you how I’m doing,” Gerard says, but Frank shakes his head. “I told you, I was fine before. Now I’m not because I don’t have a proper Art teacher and I won’t get into Art school, and I keep having these fucking nightmares about things he never did but you and fucking Schechter and my parents and everybody keep reminding me of what he might have done if he hadn’t been stopped.” He rubs at his eyes as if he might start crying, but Frank doesn’t comment on it. “I never even thought he would do it before, and if he had tried I wouldn’t have let him, but now it’s all I can think about, and it’s making me fucking sick and I can’t sleep.”

There’s a long pause because Frank isn’t sure he should speak yet, but then Gerard does. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Gerard…”

“And I had to talk to the police, you know, and it was like they wanted me to say that he raped me. I even heard one of the officers say that it would have been a more convincing case if I said he had touched me or that he had made me touch him. So I asked them if they wanted me to lie.” Gerard is just looking down at the book bag on his lap now, looking so vulnerable and innocent and, Frank feels this overwhelming urge to go over and hug him, but he doesn’t. 

“I tried talking to the school counselor, but she’d rather have me talking about my childhood and that’s not helping. And you said I could talk to you.”

“You can. You can talk to me all you want, okay,” Frank hurries to say now that he’s got the chance. “I’m here ‘til four or five almost every day, and—” Frank reaches for his post-it pad and scribbles down some of his contact info. “And you can call me, or email me if that’s better, pretty much whenever. I check my email several times a day.”

Gerard takes the post-it and just stares at him. “Gerard, I promise that I will never nag you about what might have happened, because it’s never going to happen. We made sure of that. Okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” Gerard even smiles a little, and then gets up and leaves.

*

Later that night Frank is starting to feel like he’s maybe in way over his head, and wonders if he can even really help Gerard. What does he know about this? What can he possibly do that a professional counselor can’t? What if he makes things worse?

He calls Aaron just after eight, knowing it’s too late for sound check and too early for them to actually be playing, but when he finally picks up the phone, he can’t really talk anyway. There’s too much noise in the background, Frank can hardly hear what Aaron is saying, and the only thing he picks up is “that club in Portland that you love” and Frank knows exactly which club he means. He wonders if Aaron even knows that the reason he loves it is because that’s where their bands’ paths crossed the third time, and the first time the two of them hooked up was on a dirty old couch in the backroom of that club. Frank had known right then that Aaron might be worth quitting for.

He doesn’t tell Aaron any of this; he doesn’t get a chance to. The call is cut off, and Frank is left there with nothing but silence in his ear. He’s still doubtful about the Gerard situation, even more doubtful about his relationship, and he wishes more than ever that Aaron was here with him instead of across the country with his band and almost all of Frank’s friends.

*

“And the thing is, I love superhero comics, of course I do, otherwise I obviously wouldn’t read them so much, but I feel like in some ways it’s an incredibly elitist thing. Like, being a superhero is very elitist, only a certain kind of person can be,” Gerard babbles on across the table and Frank is doing his very best to follow him, but right now he has to admit he’s a little lost. “I mean, almost all superheroes have similar backgrounds, like, they’re orphans or had bad childhoods and got bullied and their lives just sucked in general, you know?”

Frank nods and takes a bite of his muffin. He’s really glad he suggested they go somewhere else today; he can’t help but feel like he’s been spending way too much time in his office lately and this little coffee shop is one of his favorites because of how quiet it is, even on a Friday afternoon. It’s been a little over a week since Gerard had burst into his office, and they have talked every day since, either in his office or on the phone and by email on the weekend. It’s not always about Gerard, but it’s nice either way.

“I just don’t think that sends a very good image to the kids who had nice childhoods, and who talk to their parents every day and who didn’t go through some life changing trauma.” Gerard pauses and takes a large gulp of coffee and Frank takes the opportunity to pitch in.

“Yeah, because it’s like saying that normal people can’t change anything, that they can’t save the world.”

“Exactly! And the thing is, what does normal even mean? How fucked up or tragic is fucked up or tragic enough to be a superhero? And…” Gerard pauses, biting his lip and staring into his coffee cup as if it might hold some kind of answer. “And is there any kind of fucked up that’s taboo?” 

“Like if someone was sexually abused?” Frank fills in for him, and Gerard nods. “I think you’re right. Most heroes are too alike. And it is definitely possible that the kind of issues they have to overcome does send the wrong message to people who don’t have that kind of battle. Someone could have a perfect family life but struggle in school because of undiagnosed dyslexia or ADD. Or they can battle something that’s taboo, like sexual orientation, which might make them feel like they have to stand back.”

“Yeah. I love superhero comics for teaching kids that they can get over stuff that troubles them, but I really feel like it’s too limited.”

“Well, maybe one day you can change that,” Frank says, taking a sip of his coffee and smiling at Gerard from behind the cup. Gerard looks down sadly, though.

“I have to get into a good Art school first.” Frank sighs, already expecting another rant about how terrible the Art substitute teacher is. 

“I’m sure you will. I know Hayley still hasn’t improved, and she’s feeling terrible about it, but hopefully next year the school will hire someone really good.”

“You call her Hayley now? What happened to ‘Miss Williams’?” Gerard gives him an exasperated look before continuing. “Why do you always defend her? She’s a terrible teacher and really annoying. And she likes Twilight.” Gerard rolls his eyes before looking at Frank with wide eyes. “Are you sleeping with her?” 

Frank who has just taken a bite of his muffin chokes on it. “No, God, what. No. We’re friends. She’s new at the school. She needs someone to back her up.” Gerard still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m an English teacher damn it, do you really think I’d sleep with someone who thinks Twilight is a good literary work? I’m also pretty sure my boyfriend would be pissed off if I did.” He adds the last part without thinking, only realizes what he said when he looks up and meets Gerard’s almost comically wide eyes.

“That’s not a problem, is it?” he asks when Gerard doesn’t say anything. Frank’s not even sure if Gerard is even breathing at this point, but then he breathes in sharply before downing what’s left of his coffee in one go.

“No. I don’t think so. No,” he finally says, clutching his empty cup. Frank nods, relieved that Gerard isn’t freaking out or getting upset or accusing him for wanting to— Frank can’t even think about it. “I think I might be, too,” Gerard says and Frank realizes he might have zoned out a little.

“What?”

“Gay.”

“Oh.” It’s all Frank can even think about saying. How to handle things like students coming out to you is not something they brought up at College, and he had never expected to hear it from Gerard either. “That’s… That’s great. I. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard hurries to say. “You’re kinda the first person I’ve told about it. I told my grandma I like guys, but I wasn’t very specific like, I didn’t told her it was just guys or how much I like them.” Gerard’s face is flushed red, which is a strange look for someone who is always so pale. “I thought maybe you’d understand. And, you know, not tell anyone.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” Frank says earnestly. “And I hope I can expect the same from you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Gerard looks like he wants to say something else, but gets up to refill his coffee first. 

When he gets back, he doesn’t say anything though, so Frank asks, “Is this something you want to talk about?” He doesn’t want to pressure Gerard into telling him things if he isn’t ready, but he thinks that since the topic is already on the table, he might as well invite Gerard to talk about it now.

He can see Gerard thinking hard, opening his mouth several times as if to speak, but closing it again when he can’t find the words. “I’ve wondered if it was because I’m gay,” he finally says quietly and, before Frank can ask what, he continues, “If Mr. Collins thought that I would eventually agree to— to do things. Because I’m gay.” He’s clutching his cup so hard Frank can see his knuckles turning white, but Gerard keeps his eyes locked on the table.

“Did he know you’re gay?” Frank asks, and Gerard shakes his head quickly.

“I never told him anything like that. You and grandma are the only ones that know,” he says, just as quietly as before. “I was thinking that maybe he just knew? Maybe he could tell? Maybe I seemed… easy.”

“Gerard,” Frank starts, but Gerard still refuses to look at him, so he reaches out and touches his hand. He lets go of the cup surprisingly easily and, when Frank wraps his fingers around his hand, he looks up. “Gerard, what he did to you was in no way your fault. You’re not to blame and, if he had done anything else, touched you in any inappropriate way, you still wouldn’t be to blame for that.” 

“It still seemed like he knew, though.”

“Gerard, did you have any idea I was gay before I told you?” He shakes his head. “Have you ever been able to tell someone’s sexual orientation just by looking at them? Or talking to them about completely unrelated things?”

“No.” Gerard sighs. “But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t tell about me.”

“Gerard, listen to me. I’m sure it had nothing to do with that.” Frank squeezes his hand and is happy to feel Gerard squeeze his back. “Collins is a predator. A sexual predator who preys on children and teenagers like you. He had something you wanted so he lured you in. But it might as well have been any other student. I don’t know if he has a type or anything, and frankly, I don’t want to know, but I’m sure that he chose you because it was the most convenient for him.”

“But then it is my fault because I want to go to Art school so badly and I need extra credit and recommendations and help to get in. If I was just better, I wouldn’t have been so desperate.”

“Gerard, what did I tell you the other day when you showed me your sketchbook?”

“That I was the most talented kid you had ever met,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah, and I mean that. If Collins told you that you’re not good enough, he was lying. I know applying for Colleges is scary and difficult, I mean there’s a reason why I waited four years before doing it, besides trying to follow my dreams. But if anyone can get into that school in New York, it’s you.”

“Not without a better Art teacher, I won’t,” Gerard says, and Frank is more than happy to detect a lightness in Gerard’s tone and a smile on his face. They sink into a comfortable silence after that, Gerard drinking his coffee and Frank just looking around the almost empty coffee shop. That’s when he spots a really nice and antique looking clock on the wall and realizes it’s already past seven.

“I guess it’s time to get going,” he says, reaching for his jacket on the empty chair between them and picking up his gloves from where they’ve fallen on the floor. “I don’t want your parents and grandmother worrying about you more than they already do.”

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, but Frank is sure he looks disappointed. It starts to snow just when they step outside and Frank is sure Gerard doesn’t live far from here, but he’s not going to make the kid walk in the snow and freezing cold if he doesn’t want to.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” he says, and Gerard follows him to his old beat up car. It’s freezing cold inside, but it’s dry and there’s no icy wind, so Frank won’t complain, even if it takes one too many tries to get it started. Gerard gives him directions and tells Frank that he doesn’t even have a license despite his dad offering several times to teach him.

“I just think driving seems kinda scary, you know?” Frank nods. “And I like just being a passenger. Driving doesn’t really seem like my thing. I think I’d lose focus too easily and be a danger to everyone else.” 

“Yeah, it’s a big responsibility not everybody’s cut out for. At least you know that yourself and don’t insist on going out there almost killing yourself and everyone else.”

Gerard giggles. “Yeah.”

Frank pulls up outside Gerard’s house and expects him to get out right away, but he turns to Frank for a moment, biting his lip before saying, “Thanks, for… I. It was really nice, talking to you and, you know. Thanks for the ride, and the coffee.” Frank isn’t sure if it’s just because the car is finally getting warmed up, but Gerard looks a little flushed.

“It’s no problem. It was good talking to you too,” Frank says and smiles, really meaning it. He’s not sure what it says about him though, that the best time he’s had in a month was having coffee with a sixteen year old.

On his way home, Frank considers stopping to get some takeout to eat when he gets home, but decides to just get something out of the freezer to heat up instead. Or maybe he’ll cook some pasta and make some of his mother’s tomato sauce with it. He’s still thinking about it, wondering if he’s got enough tomatoes and onions home to do it, when he reaches his apartment and is confused to find the lights on in the hallway. He trips over a duffle bag on the floor and catches himself against the wall just as a familiar voice calls out, “Frank, is that you?” Aaron appears in the kitchen doorway. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours but only got voicemail.”

“I was out,” Frank says dumbly and toes of his shoes. “My phone,” he digs it out of his pocket and realizes it’s turned off. “Oh, I must have forgotten to turn it back on after class.” Aaron sighs and Frank looks up at him and speaks without thinking, “What are you even doing here? Don’t you have a show to play?”

“You forgot I was coming home this weekend? I told you last weekend, and a couple of days ago.” Now that he mentions it, Frank does remember. It had just completely slipped his mind this afternoon when he was getting ready to go home and Gerard had knocked on his door and pulled him into a long discussion about superheroes. “You don’t even look happy to see me.”

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” Frank says and practically throws himself across the hallway and onto Aaron, who stumbles back against the wall. “I’ve just had a lot of things on my mind and time got away from me, and I’m sorry my phone wasn’t on.” He wraps his arms around Aaron’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss, and then another one and another and, before he knows it, they’re stumbling into his bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes. 

Afterwards, something is different than usual, but Frank can quite put his finger on what. He ignores it though and gets out of bed, telling Aaron he’s going to make dinner, but finds himself pulled back down on the bed. 

“I ordered pizza earlier,” Aaron tells him, “but I wanted to wait for you to get home to eat. I guess it might have gotten cold now, but I’ll go put it in the oven if you like.”

“Cold pizza’s fine. As long as it doesn’t have pineapple on it.”

“No pineapple, I promise.” Aaron kisses him briefly before getting up, naked and gorgeous, and saunters off to the kitchen. When he returns with the pizza and two bottles of beer, Frank’s stomach growls loudly, making them both laugh before they dig in.

*

Frank sleeps in for a lot longer than usual the next day. It was a very long night. Frank doesn’t think he has come that many times in one night since he was a teenager, and he feels completely satisfied. He’d love to start the day with some lazy morning sex, but rolls over to find that Aaron is already up. He can hear the coffee machine in the kitchen and knows that that’s where he will find his boyfriend, but his bladder makes itself known then and he has to deal with that before anything else.

When he gets up something colorful flies off the bed and, when he picks it up it takes him a moment to figure out what it is, simply because it’s not supposed to be there. It’s a condom wrapper, which makes absolutely no sense because Frank and Aaron are both clean and haven’t bothered with condoms in years. Until last night, Frank thinks, suddenly remembering the strange feeling and belatedly realizing it had been because Aaron had worn a condom and hadn’t come inside him. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he do that? Frank loves how intimate it feels to be skin to skin, despite the mess it leaves afterwards.

He pulls on sweatpants and a t-shirt as he ponders over it and heads to the bathroom, still clutching the wrapper in his hand. He tries to think of a reason that makes sense, a good reason for why Aaron would want to use protection, but there’s only one he can think of. Throwing the wrapper into the trashcan, he exits the bathroom feeling surprisingly calm, not really mad, and finds Aaron sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. Frank pours one for himself and doesn’t bother with milk or sweeteners today; he doesn’t want any sugarcoating. 

“You slept with someone else, didn’t you?” He goes straight to the point, but Aaron doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to. Frank can see it perfectly well in his eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t know how.” Frank surprises himself when he sits down and reaches out for Aaron’s hand, much like he had with Gerard yesterday. “I knew you would know anyway, and that was bad enough. I just wanna take it all back. It was just a drunken mistake.”

“I know,” Frank whispers, leaning his head against Aaron’s shoulder. He knows how much Aaron loves him and that he would never hurt Frank deliberately. “I have to ask, though. Is this the first time?” Frank swallows hard. He’s not mad, just scared. “Because if it’s happened before and— We don’t use protection, and I just…”

“It was the only time, I swear.” Aaron runs a hand through Frank’s hair, stroking his scalp soothingly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t take a risk like that, not even to keep it from you.” Frank sighs, pushing into his touch without thinking.

They sit like that in silence for a while, until Aaron speaks again. “Why aren’t you angrier?” Frank honestly doesn’t know. “Please, just say something. Where does this leave us?”

Frank pulls away and looks at him, cupping Aaron’s face with one hand. “I think it means something, that I’m not angry,” he starts, but has to stop to drink some coffee before he chokes up. “I’m disappointed and sad, but deep down it feels like I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, like it’s been inevitable. And, honestly, yesterday I forgot you were coming home. A couple of years ago, I would have insisted on picking you up at the airport myself, but yesterday I didn’t even care that you were coming home. I’m too busy to miss you most days.”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Aaron says flatly. Frank leans in and kisses him.

“I don’t see any other option. We could try to work it out, but I think we both know nothing is going to change as long as you’re out in the world and I’m here.” He looks at Aaron sadly. “I don’t want you to give up your dreams like I did. Not for me. You’re better at music than I ever was anyway.”

“Don’t say that. I’ve never seen anyone like you onstage.” He leans his forehead against Frank’s. “I love you. That’s not gonna change, not in a really fucking long time.”

“I love you too, but I think that maybe we just weren’t meant to be together like this.” Aaron kisses him now, and this time they don’t stop. They get up and move to the bedroom, already tearing at each other’s clothes and Frank, ironically, thinks that now at least he’ll get his morning sex, but there’s nothing lazy about it. It’s frantic and hard, and Frank cries softly into Aaron’s neck when he comes, Aaron following him just moments later.

They lie in silence after that, Frank’s head on Aaron’s shoulder, an arm draped over his chest. Everything feels strangely normal, but also different because Frank can’t help but think that this is the last time they’ll ever be together like this. 

“Do you have anywhere to go? A place to stay?” Frank asks, softly because he doesn’t want Aaron to think that he wants him to leave. Not yet.

“I think I can probably crash with Dewees. He has said something about needing a roommate. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Frank whispers and presses his nose into Aaron’s chest, breathing him in, smelling his skin and kissing it tenderly. Aaron slips an arm around Frank, hugging his shoulders.

“I’m gonna be fine, Frank, and so are you. We’re gonna be just fine.”

“Yeah.”

They get dressed a while later and Frank helps Aaron gather his things and pack them into the three duffel bags he keeps with him on tour. He never really left his things at Frank’s, as he never really lived there, but Frank remembers this book that he let Frank borrow once, as well as some DVDs that Frank had put on his movie shelf. Aaron tells him to keep it all because he’s got no use for it on the road and, even if he finds a place to spend his time off tour, he doesn’t think he will really have a home in a long time. 

Frank can’t say anything; his throat is closing up. He crashes into Aaron’s arms and stays there for several minutes, savoring the feeling of being held for what he knows will be the last time. “I’m gonna go now,” Aaron whispers in Frank’s hair, and Frank nods.

“Yeah, okay.” They kiss one last time and then Aaron is gone, the three duffel bags in his hands and the guitar case on his back. Frank stands there, staring at the door for at least ten minutes, not sure of what he just did. Everything feels surreal.

He goes back to the bedroom and takes a picture of him and Aaron off the wall and brings it to the kitchen and just puts it on the table and sits there, looking at it. It’s pretty old, from when Frank was still playing music, when he still was in a band and touring just as much as Aaron still does, if not more. In the picture, they’re in a kitchen somewhere, probably at some after party after a show their bands had played together. It was from when Frank, not Aaron, was in a band with Ray and Dewees. They barely knew each other back then; it was maybe the fifth or sixth time they and their bands had run into each other. Frank had stupid hair and several facial and ear piercings that he gradually removed as he went through college. Aaron’s hair was long and blond instead of its natural dark brown. 

They were nothing back then. They had hooked up a few times, every time they had been in the same town for more than five minutes, and Frank got this feeling in his gut every time he looked at Aaron, or touched him or kissed him. Frank can’t remember who took the picture, but he always loved them for it because it captured Frank and Aaron kissing, and it’s such a sweet, gentle kiss that Frank has always counted that as the moment he really fell in love with Aaron. They weren’t dating and a relationship wasn’t even possible with the way the two of them lived, but Frank loved him anyway.

He starts crying, thinking of how much he put into the relationship they had together and gets the phone to call his mom. He knows she will offer him at least some comfort and make him feel better. He doesn’t move after that and he doesn’t stop crying for hours, and his mother never stops telling him that he did the right thing and that he’s going to be fine and that she loves him.

*

The weekend seems like it’s never going to end, but at the same time it goes by too quickly. Frank spends a lot of time sleeping, but on Monday morning it feels like he hasn’t slept at all. His eyes hurt from crying and his throat is sore from talking while crying and his head hurts like he’s hung over, but he’s pretty sure it’s either because of too much or too little sleep. He gets through most of the day, though and, when his last class ends, he’s more than relieved to go back to his office and just have time to himself even if he has to work to do too.

He barely has a chance to get started on deciding what book to make his students read and review before there’s a knock on his door. He sighs deeply and waits a few seconds before inviting them in, and is not really surprised to see a worried looking Gerard standing there, book bag slung over his shoulder and hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You didn’t answer any of my emails,” he says, his tone in a strange place somewhere between apologetic and accusatory. “Or phone calls.” Frank nods, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. He felt a little bad about ignoring Gerard all weekend, but he had read the emails and none of them were about life or death emergencies, so he just left them and he hadn’t answered the phone to anyone but his mom.

“You look like you had a really crappy weekend,” Gerard says softly, closing the door and sitting down on the chair that is on the other side of the desk.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Frank mutters. He’s sure Gerard is going to ask him what happened or what is wrong or assure him that he can tell him until Frank gives in, and Frank has little to no resistance left, and he also really wants to tell someone that isn’t his mom and that doesn’t know Aaron, so he just blurts out, “I broke up with my boyfriend.” 

He looks up at Gerard and is not surprised to see him look back in utter shock. “What? Why? What happened?”

Frank shrugs and leans back in his chair, looking around the room instead of at Gerard. “It was just time. For the past few months we’ve only been together out of habit, not wanting to face the fact that it’s not really working.”

“But you didn’t say anything like that on Friday. You seemed fine. What happened?” Gerard asks again, and Frank knows he shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t be talking about this with a student, shouldn’t burden Gerard with his own failing personal life. He has to remind himself that Gerard isn’t his friend.

But he tells him anyway. “He cheated on me,” Frank says flatly, feeling just as calm as when he had confronted Aaron about it. “That’s not why we broke up, but it opened my eyes and made me see things for what they really are.”

“You don’t love him anymore?” Gerard asks, trying to understand.

“I do, but it’s. It’s not that simple. He’s in a band, you see, so he’s always on tour, or off somewhere to do one thing or another, and he’s just not around and, at some point, I just stopped missing him the way I used to. Not to mention that when he was here, we spent half the time fighting,” Frank tries to explain, but Gerard still looks at him in that naïve kind of confusion that comes with being young and having a very basic idea of what love and relationships are supposed to be like. At that age everything is black and white. Either you love someone or you don’t. You’re either together, or you’re not.

“But if you still love him… I mean, I’d get it if you broke it off because he cheated, but I mean, why don’t you give it a second chance?”

“Gerard, we’ve been together for nearly six years. We’ve had hundreds of second chances. Nothing is going to change unless he gets off the road, and I’m not going to ask that of him.” That’s all Frank really wants to say about it and, when Gerard tries to question him again, he retorts, “I shouldn’t even be talking about this with you. I believe in separating your work from your personal life.”

“Oh, okay,” Gerard says, almost looking a little hurt. “You can talk to me, though. I feel like I’m talking your head off all the time, so it’s only fair you return the favor sometimes.”

“Thank you, Gerard, but I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

*

Appropriate or not, Frank finds himself spending a lot of time with Gerard, in his office during his working hours as well as outside of school in his free time. They talk a lot, going for coffee and sometimes early dinners or lunch on the weekends at this diner that Gerard knows, where no one else from school ever seems to go. Sometimes Gerard talks Frank into going to see movies with him, but they never go to the big cinema at the mall, but a small, old theatre in the outskirts of town that only shows old classics and has horror and sci-fi theme nights on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

Frank can’t deny that dealing with the fact that he’s single is a lot easier when he’s spending all his time with Gerard, because it simply keeps him from dealing with it. He hasn’t really talked to any of his friends about the breakup, mostly because most of his friends are Aaron’s friends too, or Aaron’s band mates, and Frank doesn’t know what to tell anyone or if he should start going out and date again. If Gerard wasn’t so much younger than him, as well as a student, Frank might call what they’re doing dating, but it obviously can’t be like that so Frank is happy enough to have Gerard as a friend. 

A month passes like it’s nothing, winter starts to retreat in favor of spring, and just at the very end of March, Frank spots a familiar face at the movie theatre when he’s there with Gerard, having just watched _Alien_ and _Aliens_ in one go. It’s not anyone from school, thank God, but Frank is far from thrilled to see the lead guitarist of Aaron’s band.

“Frank!” he calls from across the theatre lobby and Frank grimaces, but stops not to be impolite. He plasters a smile on his face before turning to see Ray heading over with his girlfriend in tow. “Oh my God, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages, I had no idea you even knew of this place.” Frank nods and lets himself be hugged, but mentally braces himself for what might be coming next.

“How are you doing?” Ray asks with a meaningful look in his eyes.

“I’m good, Ray,” he replies, shuffling his feet a little, but then he follows the line of Ray’s gaze to Gerard, and finds another meaningful look on Ray’s face. Frank isn’t stupid; he knows what this looks like, and that you can tell just by looking at them that Gerard is a lot younger than him. “I’ve been, uh, spending time with friends, you know,” he says, forcing back the attention to himself, but nodding his head in Gerard’s direction when he says _friends_. 

“That’s good,” Ray says, and then seems to let it go. “You should call me some time. I’d ask you to come out for a show, but I guess it might still be too soon for that, huh.”

“Yeah. It was great seeing you, though. Tell the guys I said hello,” Frank says, letting Ray decide whether to include Aaron or not. They say goodbye after that, and Frank walks quickly out to his car, Gerard half running after him.

“Frank, are you okay?” he asks, panting a little when he stops in front of Frank, who’s pulling out a pack of smokes and lighting one up. “Who was that?”

“We used to be in a band together,” Frank says, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the air. “For the last five years or so, since I left and the band split up, he’s been playing with Aaron.” Frank had ended up telling Gerard the long, complicated story of his relationship with Aaron a couple of weeks ago because he seemed genuinely curious and like he wanted to be Frank’s friend through this.

“Oh,” is all Gerard manages to say.

“I don’t think we should go out anymore,” Frank says after a long moment of silence. “Students and teachers are not supposed to be friends, Gerard. It is highly frowned upon and after what happened with Collins, you of all people should know why. Next time we run into someone we know, it might not be someone like Ray. It could be someone from school, someone who will be suspicious about why we’re seeing a movie or having coffee together.”

“But we’re just friends.” The word “friends” stings in Frank’s ears. He had never meant for them to be friends; he just wanted to help. Initially, when the Collins thing was discovered, other teachers had congratulated Frank on doing the right thing and on helping Gerard. Even now, whenever they’re seen talking in Frank’s office, afterwards someone will always appear and pat Frank’s shoulder, telling him how good it is that he’s still there for the kid. The truth is that Gerard hasn’t talked to Frank about Collins in weeks, and Frank is pretty sure the nightmares are completely gone.

“We’re not supposed to be.” Gerard looks absolutely crushed, and Frank has to take pity on him and offers him his cigarette. “Gerard, you have to understand, my career is on the line here. And I’m not saying we can’t still talk, but it has to be at school, behind closed doors.”

“At your place?” Gerard suggests, and Frank freezes. Gerard has never been to his apartment and Frank would like to keep it that way, feeling like it’s the only barrier between appropriate and inappropriate that they haven’t crossed.

Instead of answering the question, Frank decides to ask Gerard something he has been wondering for some time but never managed to. He’d been afraid of the response he might get. “Gerard, what do you tell your parents when we hang out? And how come you’re never with any other friends, or at least you never tell me about it?”

“I don’t really have any other friends. Except for my brother, I guess. So when I’m with you, I tell them I am with friends.” Gerard smokes and doesn’t look at Frank.

“Gerard…” Frank says, but Gerard doesn’t say anything, just hands him the cigarette back and gets into the car. Frank takes a last drag of it before dropping it on the dirty asphalt and letting it die out on its own. They don’t talk as Frank drives Gerard home, not until they’re on his street.

“So, can I come to your place some time?” Gerard asks, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “Maybe tomorrow?”

Frank doesn’t answer him right away. Tomorrow is Saturday though, and Frank doesn’t have any other plans. “Fine. Yeah, okay,” he mutters just as he pulls up outside the house. Gerard doesn’t look at Frank before climbing out, but Frank can still see a big smile on his face. 

*

The next night feels like it’s never going to end. Gerard doesn’t arrive too early, but when he does he’s looking incredibly excited and can’t stop smiling. They order pizza and start watching movies right away, and it’s mostly fun. They watch everything from horror to science fiction to romantic comedies to drama, and Frank hasn’t had this much fun watching movies with anyone since Aaron and this one time last summer. He tries not to think about Aaron, though, and succeeds for the most part until Gerard insists on watching _the Notebook_ , of all things, which Frank didn’t even know he had.

He just can’t help but think about Aaron then because that’s the movie they would put on when they first started dating regularly and just let play in the background as they kissed and made out and fucked. He doesn’t tell Gerard that, but Gerard still manages to keep Frank from thinking about Aaron when he sits back on the couch after a bathroom break and leans against Frank, snuggling up against him and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Uh, Gerard, what are you—” Frank says, shying away from Gerard’s touch because it’s the right thing to do, even if he doesn’t really mind. Gerard straightens back up instantly, face looking flushed in the dark. He doesn’t look at Frank and he doesn’t say anything. Ten or maybe fifteen minutes later, he’s back, though, and this time Frank lets him be.

Frank expects him to move away when the movie ends, but when he doesn’t, it becomes clear that Gerard is fast asleep. Frank is hardly surprised considering it’s past three in the morning, but he can’t help but freak out a little because Gerard had never mentioned that he wanted to stay over. “Gerard, hey, wake up,” he says and shifts a little so Gerard can’t lean on him like that, but it just makes Gerard fall onto Frank’s chest, still asleep. 

“Gerard?” he says again, but Gerard appears to be an incredibly heavy sleeper. He gets up and lays Gerard down on the couch, figuring it’s the best he can do at the moment. He worries a little that Gerard’s parents are going to freak out and call the police and show up at his doorstep any minute now, but if Gerard told them he’s at a friend’s house, hopefully they’ll trust that he’s safe.

He gets a pillow and a blanket from his bedroom and tucks the pillow under Gerard’s head before spreading the blanket over him. He tangles his legs in the blanket and snuggles into the pillow almost immediately, and Frank can’t help but think what he’s been trying to deny for a month now. Gerard is beautiful. He crouches down beside the couch and reaches out to brush Gerard’s hair out of his face, and it strikes him that Gerard acts so different now from what he was like the first time they met. Around him at least. But so does Frank. 

He goes to bed after that, trying not to think about it, about Gerard or the things he is not supposed to be feeling. He wishes it was still about helping Gerard, he really does. He wishes it was even a little bit about helping himself, but it’s not. It’s not about helping anyone at all, and it feels like Frank’s digging himself into a gigantic hole with no way out.

*

Gerard comes over several times over the next week, and they sometimes spend the afternoons and early evenings watching movies, but sometimes Frank has to insist that Gerard works on his homework so Frank can get some work of his own done. On school nights, he insists on sending Gerard home before he gets a chance to fall asleep on top of Frank, but on Saturday Gerard shows up and tells him, “I told my mom I might stay the night.”

“Oh, okay,” is all Frank says because what else _can_ he say? He can’t stand it when Gerard looks sad or disappointed or rejected, and nothing bad had happened last time. Besides, that time Gerard had caught him by surprise by just falling asleep with no warning, and this time Frank is sure he can prevent Gerard from falling asleep on him by being attentive and calling it a night before that happens. 

It turns out not to be that simple, though, because when they’ve finished eating—Chinese takeout this time—Gerard snuggles up to Frank right away, just like he had during _the Notebook_ last week. Sitting like that is fine during the first movie, but when they settle back down to watch the next movie, which is _Jurassic Park_ , one of Frank’s all-time favorites, and they’ve both been up to change the DVD and make popcorn, Frank can’t help but feel like it’s terribly uncomfortable. 

He shifts a little, sitting more with his side toward the back of the couch and folding his legs up under himself, but Gerard, instead of moving away like Frank had expected him too, just adjusts his position against Frank. He ends up leaning even closer and resting his head high on Frank’s chest, almost against his collarbone. That’s not the biggest problem, though. The biggest problem is that Frank’s arm is squeezed in between his body and the back of the couch and the only place he can put it comfortably is around Gerard’s shoulders.

Frank tries to focus on the dinosaurs and the annoying kids and the stupid old man, but really, all he can think about is Gerard’s warm body pressed against his. He can smell Gerard’s hair and it smells really fresh, like some fruity shampoo he must have washed it with just today, and he fights the urge to lean his head down and bury his nose in it. Gerard has hugged him a few times, and Frank thinks about that now when he’s got Gerard pressed up against him, he thinks about how Gerard is soft in some places but hard and strong in others, and he thinks about how he really could just tilt Gerard’s head up and kiss him. He’s sure Gerard won’t mind.

He forces the thought out of his head just as the T-Rex throws the goat leg over the fence and onto the car and is shocked that they’re so far into the movie already. Gerard flinches and Frank tightens his arm around him, which he regrets the next second when he’s once more thinking about how easy it would be to lay Gerard down on the couch and just kiss him for the rest of the night. _We’re just friends,_ he tries to tell himself. _We’re just friends,_ but then there’s a nagging, accusatory voice in his head going, _But you’re not even supposed to be friends. You’re a teacher at his school. You’re ten years older than him. He is just a kid. You’re just as bad as Collins._

“You have to go,” he says out loud, withdrawing his arm and jerking away from Gerard who sits up jerkily. “I’m sorry, but you have to leave. I’ll give you a ride if you need it, but just. I just need you to go.”

Gerard looks up at him, eyes wide and skin going paler and paler, just like that day in the Principal’s office. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, lips trembling. Frank wants to kiss him so bad.

“No, just. Just please. Go.” Gerard looks like he’s going to cry for a moment, just a second, but it’s enough to make Frank cave. “Or. Or maybe just. Sit at the other end of the couch.”

“Oh,” Gerard says, his mouth a perfect round circle before his face falls and he looks hurt and rejected. “Okay.”

He does move though, and sits on the other end of the couch, curled up into a ball with his legs folded up in front of himself, chin tucked into his knees. “I can get you a blanket if you’re cold. Or a pillow. Do you want a pillow?” Frank asks because he feels terrible and all he wants is to take Gerard back into his arms, but he can’t do that. He’s not allowed. “Gerard, if you’d rather have me take you home, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters and, a little more sharply, he says, “I fucking get it.”

Frank sighs. “I really doubt that.” Gerard looks at him with this wounded puppy expression and Frank can’t really think of anything to do but shrug. “Let’s just watch the movie, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

*

Things are awkward between them for a couple of days, but Gerard’s birthday is a couple of days later and by then, it has mostly worn off. Frank bought Gerard’s present a couple of days before realizing just how strong his feelings for the kid are, and he can’t help but regret it, but he can’t return it and not giving it to him would be a waste. Gerard’s been telling him that he would like to paint more at home since he gets to do little or none of it during his Art classes at school, but good paints are so expensive that he can’t really afford both canvas and paint, so Frank figured he’d get some good acrylics for him.

Gerard comes over straight after school that day so that Frank can give it to him; he had to be at home that night because his family was going to have a little celebration. Gerard seems extremely excited when he gets there, almost bouncing through the door and, when he’s taking his boots off, he’s in such a hurry he almost trips over himself and falls on his face. He probably would have if Frank hadn’t placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, which is the only reason Frank doesn’t regret touching him when Gerard beams up at him in that very specific way. Frank has come to realize that Gerard looks at him like that more often than not and he doesn’t like it.

He keeps beaming like that when Frank hands him his present and he tears off the wrapping paper and finds the acrylics. “Thank you, this is so awesome!” he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear, before launching himself at Frank who almost topples over and falls at the impact. Gerard holds him up, though, hugging him close and tight. His face is buried in Frank’s hair and Frank can feel him breathing in, and he hugs Gerard back, arms tightening around his waist as his face is pressed against Gerard’s throat and he can smell him and he smells a little like sweat and just a little like cologne or maybe it’s just his shower gel. 

The hug feels too intimate, Frank knows that, and it lasts too long, but it’s so hard to pull away. When he finally makes himself do it, Gerard doesn’t let him go all the way, but holds him so their faces are just inches apart. Gerard looks him in the eye for a long moment and Frank is grateful for that because it gives him a warning of what’s coming next. He turns his head just in time and can just feel Gerard’s soft, slightly damp lips slide over his stubbly cheek. It suddenly strikes him that everything is so terribly quiet. All he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. It’s one of the most awkward moments of his life, and he’s sure he’s never seen anyone turn that shade of red until Gerard finally backs off and turns away from Frank.

No one says anything for at least a couple of minutes. Frank is not even sure they’re still breathing. He somehow finds the ability to speak again, though and asks like the tool he is, “Do you want coffee or something?”

Gerard shakes his head and, when he turns back to Frank, his face is no longer red, but a really pale shade of white. “I’m just gonna go home. I’ve got some homework to do and I didn’t bring it here.” It’s a lie, Frank can tell, but he can tell that Gerard is embarrassed and wants to leave, and there’s no reason for Frank to stop him.

“Okay. Don’t forget your present,” he says, gesturing to the set of paints that Gerard had set down on the coffee table before throwing himself on Frank.

“I won’t,” Gerard says, smiling a little again, and Frank relaxes a little. It’s not the end of the world just yet.

After Gerard leaves, Frank makes himself some coffee and opens the kitchen window so he can sit there and smoke. He feels terrible, not just because he wants Gerard, but because it’s pretty obvious Gerard is crushing on him as well and, as long as they’re hanging out like this, even if it’s just as friends, Frank is leading him on. It can never happen, he knows that, because it would mean risking his entire career as a High School teacher for a kid that he probably hadn’t even wanted if he hadn’t just broken up with his boyfriend of six years and stopped spending time with people his own age. He doesn’t feel like he can tell Gerard that nothing is ever going to happen, though, because it would mean specifying what “it” is and he would have to confront his own feelings as well as Gerard’s and, if Gerard knows how Frank really feels, he will probably not back down until he’s got Frank for himself.

Frank drinks two cups of coffee and smokes probably half a pack of smokes before he finally shuts the window and goes to make some dinner with a decision in his head about what to do about Gerard. He doesn’t like it one bit, but there are not really any other options. There’s no way to solve this problem without anyone getting hurt, and he knows it might be selfish of him, but he’d rather not be the one to get hurt. At least not if getting hurt means that everything he has worked for, everything that he gave up his dreams for, is gone.

If that means that he has to shut Gerard out of his life completely, so be it.

*

The next day it’s really easy not to see Gerard because he doesn’t come looking for Frank. On Friday, however, Gerard stops by his office after last period and asks if he can come over later, and Frank dodges it by saying that he thinks he might be coming down with something. It’s not a complete lie; Frank had had a sore throat that morning, but that wouldn’t keep him from watching movies. When Gerard asks about Saturday instead, Frank does lie and says that he’s been thinking about going to see his mom. As soon as he says this, he remembers that he actually can’t because she will be gone on a weekend trip to Florida with some friends. 

The next two weeks should be easy enough to avoid Gerard, but they aren’t. It’s spring break so Frank doesn’t have to worry about Gerard catching him in his office at school, but since Gerard doesn’t have classes, he seems to want to hang out all the time and Frank is afraid he is going to run out of excuses. He really does get sick, though, feeling crappy enough to just stay in bed or lie around on his couch and fall asleep in front of the TV for almost the entire first week.

That doesn’t stop Gerard from showing up at his apartment, but when Frank finally manages to get to the door and opens it wearing pajamas and a blanket with really gross hair and without having shaved for almost a week, Gerard seems to believe that it’s not all just excuses. Frank still exaggerates his raspy voice and snuffles more than he really needs to for a few minutes until Gerard leaves. He had offered to stay and help out a little, like clean up a bit and make him soup, but Frank spins some bullshit about how Gerard probably has better things to do on his spring break and that he should go home and paint something, and Gerard doesn’t argue.

Frank is actually well on his way to getting better; his fever is almost gone and his throat no longer feels like he has swallowed a cheese grater, but Gerard doesn’t need to know that.

The next week Frank has to work a lot to make up for the time he was sick. At least that’s what he tells Gerard whenever he calls. He’s got some late papers to grade and some tests to go over, but other than that he’s free and he actually does go and visit his mom for the first time in what feels like forever. He realizes that he hasn’t seen her since before he broke up with Aaron and, when she hugs him and asks him about it, it’s the first time he really talks about Aaron. He has gone over it with Gerard, but he barely knew Gerard, and Gerard had never met Aaron and didn’t know him and only said things that would make Frank feel better, just to comfort him. Frank’s mom is not really any better when it comes to that, but at least she has an understanding for how serious they were and exactly how long six years really is.

Seeing her is just really great in every way. She cooks for him and they talk about her life and what Florida was like and Frank doesn’t tell her about Gerard because he never brought him up with her before and so she doesn’t ask. On his way home, he thinks about something his mom had said, about what friends he was hanging out with now because he had told her that he felt like most of his best friends were now Aaron’s friends. He had lied and said he had reconnected with some friends from College, but the truth is that he hasn’t spoken to any one of them since last year.

He calls his friend Pete when he gets home, though and, when Gerard calls him the next day, wondering if he wants to do something that weekend, Frank isn’t lying when he says he’s already got plans.

Keeping the distance between Gerard and himself isn’t quite as easy once they’re back at school every day, but ignoring phone calls is easy and, knowing that Gerard never comes over immediately after last period, Frank just leaves as soon as he can, bringing his work home with him. That works just fine on Monday and Tuesday, but he knows it’s just a matter of time before Gerard gets sick of it and comes over. Frank’s been ignoring his emails, but on Tuesday night there is one with “Why are you avoiding me?” in the subject line instead of the usual ‘no subject’.

He opens it, because Gerard’s desperation is obvious and Frank isn’t cold-hearted enough to delete it like he has with all the others. _If I did something wrong, please tell me so I can fix it. If I did something to offend or hurt you, please let me know so I can apologize._

Frank hits reply but never types anything because he doesn’t know how to tell Gerard that what he did wrong was hugging Frank and trying to kiss him, and the reason it was so wrong is because Frank wants it so fucking much. He doesn’t know how to tell Gerard that the reason Frank needs to stay away from him is to stay sane, or that if he lets himself get too close to Gerard he’s not sure what he’ll do and he isn’t willing to jeopardize his entire life and career for a seventeen year old.

He shuts his laptop and goes to bed, the email still unanswered. 

*

The next day Frank escapes home early just like before, but when his doorbell rings just an hour later, he is not the slightest bit surprised. Gerard looks like something between furious and heartbroken when Frank lets him in, his face the same kind of deathly pale as that day in Schechter’s office, the day Frank saved him. 

“Do you want coffee or something?” Frank asks, but Gerard just shakes his head and goes straight into the living room. Frank thinks he’s going to sit down on the couch, but he walks straight by it and just stands on the other side of the coffee table. When he turns to face Frank again, he looks agitated with his fists shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and his hair hanging down over his face. He looks at Frank like he’s waiting for him to say something.

Frank doesn’t say anything, though.

“Can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it? Or if it’s something that I did, or am still doing, tell me so I can apologize and stop doing it. Please.” Gerard looks down at the floor, pulling his shoulders up to his ears and it makes him look so young, so small.

“Gerard…” Frank finally says, and Gerard looks up again, hope visible on his face. “Gerard, this isn’t something that can be fixed. Nor can it be ignored, and God knows I have tried that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can’t be friends. You’re a student and I’m a teacher—”

“You’re not _my_ teacher,” Gerard points out, his voice squeakier that usual.

“It doesn’t make a difference! We shouldn’t be friends. We can’t be, because we’ve gotten too close, and it’s not good for either of us.” Frank hadn’t wanted to raise his voice like this, but now he has and Gerard looks absolutely devastated. He lowers his voice again when he adds, “I wanted to be there for you when you went through a rough time. I was. I helped you get through the shit with Collins and with everything that followed, but that is all I can do for you.”

“But we’re friends.” Gerard walks back around the couch and up to Frank. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Gerard…”

“It’s because I tried to kiss you, isn’t it?” Frank is shocked into silence, never having expected Gerard to bring that up. He had thought Gerard would be too embarrassed, that had Frank been the one to mention it, Gerard would have brushed it off. “Can’t we just pretend it never happened? I didn’t mean to ruin anything. I just thought…”

“What? You thought what?” Frank asks, taking a step closer, their faces mere inches apart. He never really takes notice of Gerard being taller than him, but now that they’re so close he has to look up to be able to see into Gerard’s eyes. “What exactly did you think was gonna happen?”

“I…” Gerard says quietly, voice not more than a whisper and lips trembling. Frank doesn’t think before reaching up and placing his mouth on Gerard’s. Gerard makes a surprised noise against his lips, but then his hands are on Frank’s face and he’s kissing back, a little clumsy but definitely eager. Frank can’t bring himself to actually kiss Gerard, though. He stands there, lips pressed against Gerard’s but not moving, arms and hands hanging limp down his sides.

Gerard pulls back a moment later, hands still on Frank’s face as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Frank reaches up and takes Gerard’s hands off his face, just shaking his head. “You have to go. Now. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes, yes you should have. Frank please, I want this, if you do. Please.”

“No, Gerard. You need to leave. And don’t come back.” Frank is surprised at how sure he sounds because that’s the opposite of how he feels. He wants to kiss Gerard, to properly taste his lips and do so much more, but he can’t and he won’t. He simply watches Gerard’s face as acceptance slowly settles there. Gerard doesn’t say anything else before he walks past Frank and into the hallway, and Frank doesn’t move until he’s heard the door slam shut behind Gerard. 

The first thing he wants to do is to run after him, call him back and tell him how sorry he is. He wishes he could tell him that he wants him and that it doesn’t matter what anyone else might think or do when they find out. 

He doesn’t do any of that, though. Instead, he calls Pete again and talks him into going out tonight, despite both of them having work in the morning. Frank just really needs to go out and he needs to get drunk and what he really needs to do is to get laid, but that just isn’t as much of a priority right now.

*

April has almost come to an end at this point, and May follows, bringing an unexpected and early summer with it. The first week is terribly hot but not too humid, but Frank still finds himself sweating through his button up shirts at work and when his hair forms sweaty clumps at his temples and forehead he almost wants to buzz it all off like he did when he was twenty. Just almost, though; he likes his hair too much now. 

The hot weather should be a good thing, though because it means that the students vacate the school corridors and go outside at every chance they get, leaving them almost empty for Frank when he leaves his classroom or office for the teachers’ lounge. He supposes that he should have expected Gerard to remain inside, though, he thinks on Wednesday when he’s heading back to his office after lunch and spots Gerard in the hallway. He sees Gerard in the same spot several times a day every day for almost the entire next week after that, before the sunny weather turns into rain and the students are forced back inside and Gerard disappears in the crowd.

Frank is pretty much buried under his work after that, with finals happening and several of his senior students realizing that they now only have a couple of weeks to do makeup tests and papers so that they can pass his class. Frank has been nagging these kids to make up for the failed and missed tests for months, but because it’s their own responsibility it’s not his job to force them to do it and, now that they’ve chosen the busiest time of the year for both them and Frank, he feels like he’s going under, keeping up with all the work. This is his first year really teaching his own class, not as a substitute and, if he had thought midterm exams were stressful for him, this is more like a walk through the valley of the shadow of death. 

The bright side is that he’s too distracted to think about Gerard much, even when he spots him in the corridor and, before he knows it, it’s June and school’s out for the summer and Frank won’t have to go back to work until August.

The first thing he does is visit his mom again, staying over and hanging out with her for a few days. They go shopping and cook together, Frank’s mother finally teaching him how to make lasagna exactly the way she does it and sharing with him all the secrets behind her cooking. It’s the most fun he’s had in a long time, except for maybe when he was with Gerard, but he tries not to think about that. On Sunday, he even goes to mass with his mom just because he knows how happy it makes her and, when Father Silva comes up to talk to them afterwards, Frank doesn’t mind. When he was younger, the priest always seemed disrespectful and condescending and dismissive towards Frank, especially whenever the topic of Frank’s sexuality came up and Frank refused to feel regretful about it or to admit that it was only a phase. 

Today there’s none of that. Father Silva just asks him how he’s doing, how work is and if he’s happy. Frank knows his mother talks a lot about him, especially when she worries, and maybe that’s why Father Silva doesn’t seem like he has to shove religion down his throat the way he did when Frank was sixteen and his mother encouraged him to confess because she thought it would help. It was never because she didn’t accept him; she just wanted someone for him to confide in, someone like a father figure as he had never really known his dad. All he had ever known was that he was a musician and unreliable as fuck and one day his mother had simply had enough of his shit and had told him not to come back.

Frank can’t help but laugh to himself as they’re walking back to the car because he thinks about Aaron and how history kind of repeated itself. Not that Aaron was ever as bad as Frank’s dad had seemed, but Frank can’t help but be a little amused by it, wondering if it really is true that children take after their parents that much, or if it’s just a coincidence. 

He hugs his mom for a long time before going home again just because he wants to. “It’s been really great seeing you. And fun.”

“You can come again soon, you know. You are welcome to visit more than twice a year.” She pulls back and holds his face between her hands and stares him down, and Frank’s laughter falters when he sees the serious look on her face. “I’m worried about you, you know?”

“I know, Mom.” 

“I just don’t like to think about you all alone, working all the time…”

“I don’t work all the time. And I’m not alone, I have friends.” Frank sighs. They have avoided the subject during the four days he’s been here, and it has been a great relief not to have to think about his lonely apartment and empty life.

“Is there anyone special?” his mother asks knowingly and Frank shakes his head. “Have you dated at all?” Frank shakes his head again.

“Mom, I was with Aaron for almost six years, and it’s only been a few months. Give me a chance to get back on my feet. I’m not ready to throw myself into another relationship yet.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I just want you to see people, to enjoy your life and youth and not bury yourself in your work, because then there will be a day where you look up from your books and life will have passed you by and you will see all the things that you have missed.” Her eyes look a little wet and Frank actually feels more touched than embarrassed.

“I told you, Mom, I have friends. We go out sometimes.” She looks at him disbelievingly. “In fact, I might go out tonight. And it’s not even a weekend. How about that?”

“I just want you to be happy, Frank.”

 _Yeah, me too_ Frank thinks, although he only says. “I am.”

*

He does go out that night. He calls Pete on his way home, and Pete somehow manages to gather a whole bunch of people that end up going out, and this time Frank really hasn’t had so much fun in a really long time. Hanging out with Gerard never even came close to this; going out and getting drunk and dancing until he almost passes out. It gets even better when he finally drags himself home at four in the morning after an epic after party at some guy called Gabe’s house and there’s somebody with him. 

*

He goes out another three times that week, and spends what’s left of June as well as most of July like that. He doesn’t always bring someone home with him and, though he does it most of the times he goes out, he’s never with the same guy twice and he never lets them stay. Not even the pretty ones.

At first, he never goes out unless Pete or someone else he knows is in the group, but he soon befriends all of Pete’s friends who usually go out with them or that they meet out at clubs anyway. Gabe and William are his favorites because they like to party just as much and as often as Frank does, and their lives are so different from Frank’s that he’s sure he would never have met them if Pete hadn’t introduced them. Gabe works at some really successful advertising agency, and William actually designs clothes for a living. Frank knows from experience how tough the music industry is and he would rather not even imagine how good you would have to be to make it in fashion. 

They’re incredibly cool guys, though and, when Gabe calls to tell him that this really great Jersey based band is playing at some club downtown, Frank doesn’t hesitate to go with them. He doesn’t ask about the band or the club, and it doesn’t hit him until he’s there and sees way too many familiar faces that asking might be a really good idea. He looks around for Pete, but he doesn’t seem to have come out with them tonight and, before he gets a chance to ask William, who is standing closest to him, someone catches his elbow and spins him around.

“Frank, what are you doing here?” Ray is there, looking about as surprised as Frank feels. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you should have called and said you were coming.” Frank still doesn’t say anything, and then it’s as if Ray really looks at him and takes in the look on his face. “You didn’t know we were playing, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Frank admits sheepishly. “Is Aaron here?” It’s a dumb question; he knows that, because of course the lead singer and second guitarist is there.

“He’s in the back, warming up, I think.” Ray looks sympathetic. Frank wonders if he knows that this is the first time Frank has even been aware of them being in the same town since the breakup. “Do you wanna talk to him?”

“No.” Frank shakes his head and Ray nods. 

“Okay. Well, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Frank nods and then Ray is disappearing into the growing crowd, his curly hair bobbing up and down visible over everybody’s heads until he goes through a door. 

Frank thinks about leaving. He knows he can just walk out right now and not have to risk facing Aaron for another few months or even a year. He wants to leave, because just thinking about Aaron reminds him of all the things he could have had but doesn’t. He turns around, taking one step toward the exit, and then another one. A group of people stop just in front of him, blocking the way and he has to pause, and then it’s too late. Ten seconds is enough for Gabe and William to sweep him up and toward the bar.

“There you are, Frank. You’re gonna love these guys. The openers too. But The Govoreet Chepookas are fucking amazing. Plus, the singer is fucking hot. And totally your type and, more importantly, definitely my type,” William tells him, but Frank is only half listening as he waves the bartender over and orders beer and a few shots. Tonight he needs to get very drunk, fast. Especially if he has to listen to William gushing over Frank’s fucking ex-boyfriend and his fucking band with the weirdest fucking band name ever that Frank actually came up with when he was younger and completely obsessed with _A Clockwork Orange_.

William is right, though. The openers are good. Frank has never heard of them before, but then again, he hasn’t taken much interest in the scene over the last few years. He went out to shows when he was still in College, but after he started working he hadn’t had as many opportunities to go out and, whenever he got a chance to talk to Aaron, there were plenty of other things he would rather talk about than new bands.

By the time Aaron and Ray and the rest of their band take the stage, Frank has had another couple of beers and plenty of shots, and he’s glad he has because seeing Aaron makes him feel like shit as it is. Doing it sober would have killed him, he’s sure. Aaron looks fantastic. His hair has grown longer, falling in his face, and Frank thinks it’s blond again, like it was all those years ago. It was always Frank’s favorite look on him, and it still is. 

He sounds amazing as well, they all do, but Aaron’s voice is particularly clear and strong and Frank can’t help but feel a dull throb in his chest. None of the songs they play are new to Frank’s ears, but when Aaron introduces their last song by saying he wrote it for someone special, he really isn’t expecting to hear the song Aaron had written that day Frank had first met Gerard. He remembers everything about that day like it was yesterday; he remembers the song and Aaron’s voice and the way it had made him feel.

Frank has to get out of here. He finishes his beer quickly and slinks away easily; all of his friends are still busy paying attention to the show. He goes out through the front, but there’s too much people and traffic so he hides in the alley on the left side of the club, lighting up a cigarette when he’s away from all the noise. He leans against the brick wall of the club, just for a moment, he thinks, but fifteen minutes later he’s still there, chain-smoking. He should leave; he still wants to get away from Aaron, but he’s a little unsteady on his feet. He just needs a few more minutes, just one more cigarette. 

A door opens further down the alley, and Frank should have known, he should have expected there to be a back door down there. He should have known that with his shitty luck Aaron would come out stumbling straight onto a piss drunk and miserable Frank. 

“Frank?” Frank turns to leave, but his head spins and he has to lean heavily against the wall. “Ray said you were here. Are you okay?”

Frank turns again and rests his back against the wall, letting his head fall back against the bricks. He turns his head and looks at Aaron who looks even better now. Taller, somehow, and skinnier. Frank doesn’t answer him, and Aaron doesn’t leave. He just steps closer and pulls out his own cigarettes and lights up. They smoke in silence for a couple of minutes, and Frank just thinks. He lets his mind run wild and thinks about Aaron, and he just gets so fucking mad.

Everything is Aaron’s fault. If they were still together, Frank wouldn’t be feeling like this, he wouldn’t be going through this, he wouldn’t have gotten so attached to someone he isn’t allowed to even be with. And it’s Aaron’s fault they aren’t together. If Aaron hadn’t spent all his time flying around all over the world with the band that should have been Frank’s, if he had just spent some more time at home, with Frank… They were together for almost six fucking years, and Aaron never even moved in properly, despite Frank changing apartments after finishing College. Aaron never acted like he really wanted it to last, and now Frank is all fucked up. His career is on the line and—

“Frank, breathe, fuck,” Aaron says, his voice coming from just in front of Frank. It suddenly hits him that he said all of that out loud, or maybe he even screamed and shouted some of it, and his throat feels thick and swollen, like he’s crying. He is crying. His face is wet and his nose is running and his face is a big mess of tears, snot and spit. Aaron’s hands come up around his face and then he magics up a tissue out of nowhere and wipes at Frank’s nose and mouth.

“Shh Frank. It’s gonna be okay. Just calm down. I’ll take you home.”

The cab ride is mostly just a blur to Frank. He only remembers being in Aaron’s arms most of the time, curling into him and burying his face in Aaron’s neck, still muttering about how it’s his fault, about how Frank never would have fallen for Gerard if they were still together. He’s vaguely aware of Aaron giving the cabbie directions to Frank’s place and then getting out of the car with Aaron’s help. He’s glad he rarely throws up when he’s drunk because otherwise he probably would have thrown up right there on the curb.

“’M fine. Y’can go now,” he slurs, leaning against the wall as Aaron punches in the code. “You… you shdo— shoo— shouldnnnnn’t be herrreee.”

“Shut up and get in here,” Aaron says, pulling on his arm hard enough that Frank loses his balance and almost falls over, but Aaron catches him and tugs him inside and into the elevator. The elevator is working for once, which is good, but Aaron gets in next to Frank, which is not good. He tries to tell Aaron to leave again because he doesn’t want him here, but Aaron just shakes his head and sneaks Frank’s keys out of his pocket before getting out on the right floor.

When they’re finally in the apartment, Aaron sits Frank down on the couch before disappearing to get a glass of water and some aspirin that he makes Frank take. He doesn’t argue, hoping it will make Aaron leave afterwards, but it doesn’t work. Aaron disappears into the kitchen again and Frank can hear him talking on the phone, probably telling someone where he went, and then he returns with another glass of water for Frank and sits down on the coffee table in front of him.

“You can leave now. I’m fine,” Frank grunts.

“You’re not and I’m not going anywhere until you’ve told me what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing’s going on!” Frank snaps, looking up at Aaron.

“Frank, you’re a wreck. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Well now you have and the freak show is over, so you can go.” Frank looks away again, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for Aaron to get up and leave, but that never happens.

“What happened to you? Why are you blaming me? I thought we parted on good terms.” He touches Frank’s knees and, when Frank lets his hands fall into his lap, Aaron grabs them instead, squeezing them tight.

“I fell in love,” he whispers honestly, still slurring a little. “With someone I can’t have.”

“Why—”

“If we had still been together, I wouldn’t have fallen for him, I wouldn’t have let him take your place in my life.” Frank pauses. He can’t believe he’s telling someone, that he’s telling Aaron about all of this. “I know I wouldn’t have fallen for him, I mean, there’s nothing, no reason for me to. I shouldn’t. I know that.”

“Who is it?”

“A student.” Just like Frank had expected, Aaron doesn’t say anything, so he continues, “It’s that kid I told you about. The one I walked in on stripping for another teacher. I told him he could talk to me and we started hanging out and got too close.” When Aaron still doesn’t respond, Frank adds, “Nothing ever really happened. Just a kiss. I started backing off when I realized we were too close.”

“He’s the one Ray saw you with, isn’t he?” Frank nods.

“We stopped going out together after that. I knew it was time to stop hanging out, but by then we were too used to it, and I didn’t have a lot of other friends left since my friends had pretty much become yours.” Frank looks up and Aaron looks so terribly sad, for _him_. “I think that’s the only reason I could fall for him too because… because he’s not, he’s not like you, or me. He’s just a kid. He’s naïve and he hasn’t done anything; he hasn’t seen the world yet.”

“Maybe that’s why. You needed something different in your life.” 

Frank shrugs, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. “I’m going to bed,” he says, and Aaron stands and helps Frank get up. 

“I think I’ll take the couch, if you don’t mind,” Aaron says, rather than asks, and Frank shrugs again. Telling him to leave won’t make a difference.

“You know that couch is terrible to sleep on.”

“I know,” Aaron replies with a familiar smile and Frank can’t help but return it.

“Come on, the bed is big enough for both of us and it’s not like we haven’t managed to sleep on opposite ends of it before.” Frank doesn’t wait for a response but leads the way, only swaying a little. He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pees for a really long time and, when he goes back to his bedroom, Aaron is already shirtless and not wearing pants and climbing into bed. It’s such a familiar image that Frank needs a moment to just think and remind himself that it’s been four months and that they’re not together anymore.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks. “I can still take the couch.”

“I’m fine.” Frank gets undressed and crawls in under the covers, keeping his back turned to Aaron. He doesn’t mean to, but a small part of him almost wants Aaron not to keep the distance, to scoot closer and spoon him and kiss the back of his neck like he always used to. Aaron stays put, though and Frank drifts off to sleep within minutes.

*

When Frank wakes up, they’re still on opposite sides of the bed. It’s still early, but Frank knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep, so he gets up and takes some more aspirin before showering for at least half an hour, until he feels somewhat human again. Aaron is still sound asleep as Frank puts on his favorite ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants, so Frank lets him sleep and just gets up to make coffee, like he usually does. He brings it to the couch but ends up dozing in front of the early morning cartoons until Aaron wakes him up a few hours later. 

“You look better,” Aaron says, sitting down once Frank has sat up and moved to make room for him.

“I feel better. Hung over, but better,” Frank says with a shrug and Aaron fails to hide a small smile. “Thank you, for getting me home and taking care of me last night. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to make sure you were safe. And I think you need someone to talk to, so if you want, that person could be me.”

Frank actually laughs. “You want that after last night? I was awful. I said so much shit. And blaming you for us breaking up…”

“You’re kinda right about that, though. Me being away all the time was my fault. You couldn’t have done anything to change that. I should have been there for you more. I wanted to have everything with you, but I was too busy touring to tell you. Hell, I was too busy touring to move in with you for two years.”

“But I never said anything. It’s my fault too.”

“Whenever you did say something we just fought, Frank.” Frank feels Aaron’s hand on top of his and he looks down and laces their fingers. “I wish we could have stayed together, but I don’t think we were ever meant to figure shit out until it was too late.”

“And, despite what I said last night, there’s no saying that I wouldn’t have fallen for Gerard even if we had still been together,” Frank says quietly. “I mean, I was out having coffee with him before we broke up. I’ll admit that I hung out with him a lot because I didn’t have to think about you, but if you had gone away on tour again, I probably would have spent time with him anyway.”

“Frank…” Aaron catches him by surprise as he pulls him into a hug, and Frank turns a little to really face him and clings to the familiarity of Aaron’s arms around him and the warmth and strength of his chest. “I still care about you, you know?”

“I miss you,” Frank replies without hesitation. “I miss what we had. I miss having what we had.” He pulls back a little and they’re still so close Frank can see the slight stubble on Aaron’s chin before he looks up and meets his blue eyes. His hands are cradling the back of Frank’s head almost before their lips touch, and Frank surges up against him, moving into the kiss. Frank reaches up and cards his fingers through Aaron’s hair and it’s so soft and so familiar and, when Aaron sucks on his tongue, Frank moans and climbs onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Frank tears his own shirt off and Aaron has his mouth on his chest in seconds.

“Fuck Aaron,” Frank says, gasping as Aaron sucks a nipple into his mouth and bites on it lightly. He can feel Aaron’s cock getting hard under him and Frank’s sweatpants are doing very little to conceal his own hardening dick. “This is a pretty bad idea, isn’t it?” he whispers against the side of Aaron’s face and, instead of a verbal reply, he gets a kiss.

“I think some times that is the best reason to do something.” He nips Frank’s bottom lip, eliciting a needy moan, before pushing Frank off and standing up.

Frank doesn’t think after that. They’ve done this so many times that finding their way to the bedroom doesn’t require looking and their clothes are gone before they hit the bed. Aaron’s body feels right and familiar against his, they both know what the other likes and, when Aaron rolls them over and pushes Frank down into the mattress, sucking his pulse, Frank moans. It’s the best sex Frank has had since the day they broke up, and they make it last, dragging it out for as long as they can. Aaron fingers him and Frank rides him slowly, Aaron’s back against the headboard and their foreheads pressed together as Frank rocks his hips down.

Afterwards they’re still sitting like that, Frank on Aaron’s lap and draped over his chest, nuzzling his neck. Having Aaron’s arms around him is nice, it feels familiar and like he’s home again after having been away for too long.

“I would suggest that we do this again,” Aaron says after a long silence. “But it wouldn’t work out, would it?”

“No.” Frank shakes his head. “Even if we wanted to try again, it wouldn’t work unless one of us decides to make some drastic life changes. And I wouldn’t ask that of you.” Frank pulls back so he can look Aaron in the eye. “I’d like to be friends, though. Just friends. Anything else, like this, would just mess things up.” Aaron reaches up for a kiss and Frank leans in, giving it to him.

“You’re the one thing I’ll never regret,” Frank whispers when they break off, and Aaron smiles sadly. 

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else. If it’s not this kid, you will find someone else.” Frank leans back in, tucking his head in under Aaron’s chin.

“What if I can’t get over him? He’s got a whole year left at this school. I teach senior English. What if he’s in one of my classes?” Frank whispers and shudders as Aaron strokes his back and the nape of his neck.

“I think the only thing you can do is to try not to think about him. If he’s in your class, you’re just gonna have to pretend he’s just like any other student.” Frank sighs. “And you should date. Try to meet new people and don’t just fuck them. I want you to be happy, so if trying to find someone else is what you have to do, I really want you to do that.”

“I want you to be happy too.”

*

Frank and Aaron keep in touch this time, and Frank even talks to Ray and Dewees a couple of times. Frank thinks Aaron feels bad about having stolen the two guys who used to be Frank’s best friends and band mates before he left and they formed a band with Aaron instead, because he’s sure they wouldn’t have called him if Aaron hadn’t asked them to. It’s really nice not to always feel so alone, though, because even when he was out with Pete and Gabe and William, he was alone. He only goes out a few more times, taking it a lot easier and not hooking up with anyone. William had asked him where he had disappeared off to that time they had seen Aaron’s band and Frank had told him the truth—that he had taken the lead singer home and had sex with him. William didn’t talk to him after that.

Frank has to get back to work soon too, even if school isn’t starting up just yet. There are meetings to be held and schedules to be made and lesson plans for at least the first semester to be made, and Frank is actually glad for the distraction. He talks to Aaron on an almost daily basis, and to Ray and Dewees several times a week as well and, although Ray and Dewees don’t know the full story about why Frank is so anxious about school starting up again, talking to all of them makes everything easier to deal with.

Gerard is indeed in one of Frank’s classes, the period just before lunch on Monday and Thursday, and later in the day all other days. Frank is relieved to find that Gerard sits in the very back of his classroom, though and never tries to bring Frank’s attention to him. It’s almost as if he’s not one of Frank’s students at all, and Frank talks Aaron’s ear off about how happy he is about that the night after the second day back at school. He’s half expecting Aaron to ask him why he’s talking about Gerard when he’s so happy about not even noticing him during class, but Aaron doesn’t say anything, except that he’s happy for Frank.

A couple of weeks later, he’s looking at the first hand-in assignments of his students, though, and ignoring Gerard’s presence in his classroom becomes almost impossible. It’s not even the messy scrawl of Gerard’s name in the top right corner of the paper, or his unmistakably messy but beautiful handwriting that does it for Frank. It’s what’s in the paper he’s written. 

The topic was to write about books that have been turned into movies and, while most kids wrote about _Harry Potter_ or _Lord of the Rings_ or something in that direction, Gerard wrote about _Frankenstein_. It’s one of Frank’s favorite books, and Gerard and he have discussed it over and over again over hundreds of cups of coffee. Frank loves the old movies with Boris Karloff as the monster; he even has a tattoo of it hidden under the long sleeves of his shirt, but Gerard thinks it’s too different from the book, so he focuses on the 1994 version instead. Frank knows that Gerard doesn’t like that one either, and he immediately recognizes the arguments for why making Elizabeth a second monster is the dumbest thing Gerard has ever seen in a movie.

Frank can even see Gerard’s face in front of him as he reads; can imagine his exasperated hand movements and eye rolls and saying with a very annoyed tone in his voice, “It’s called _Mary Shelley’s_ Frankenstein for God’s sake. It’s supposed to be following the same story as the book. A few tweaks and changes here and there to make it work are one thing, but to bring Elizabeth back from the death is the opposite of what happens in the book. It’s just stupid.”

Frank laughs, just like he had the first time he had heard Gerard make the argument, but stops when it hits him how hollow it sounds. He reads the paper again and again, and he can’t stop thinking about Gerard making faces to go along with the words and saying things in a particular way and pausing to narrow his eyes at Frank as if to dare him to make a different argument. Frank never did. He just agreed and started picking on something else, leading Gerard into another long rant about why this or that made the movie suck.

Frank wishes he could do that now, that he was actually talking to Gerard instead of just reading this paper by him. He sighs and scribbles down the grade and a short comment and puts it aside, moving on to the next one in the pile.

*

Frank still manages not to crack, keeping it professional whenever Gerard is in his classroom or he’s correcting tests or going through papers with Gerard’s name on. He hardly ever sees Gerard around in the hallways either, but he tells Aaron when they talk a couple of weeks later that it might have something to do with the new Art teacher at the school. Frank has yet to talk to him; he actually hasn’t even seen him up close, he only knows that he’s really tall and European, apparently. 

He meets new Art teacher just a few days later, when he’s having lunch and this tall, baldheaded guy wearing an unusually fancy-looking suit jacket joins him. “Do you mind? I don’t believe we have met. Grant Morrison. I teach Art.”

“Uh, hi. Frank. Iero,” Frank replies dumbly and shakes Morrison’s hand. “I do English.”

“Ah, yes, I know. I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” Morrison says in an unmistakable Scottish accent, and Frank almost chokes on his tuna pasta salad.

“You have? I can’t imagine there’s much to say.”

“Oh, I’m afraid you’re wrong about that. A certain young Mr. Way can’t seem to stop talking about you.” Frank stiffens and widens his eyes but manages to keep from flushing. “And there isn’t one teacher here that I have talked to who hasn’t praised you for helping Gerard out last year.”

“I just did what anyone would have done,” Frank mutters, looking down at his food to avoid Morrison’s intense brown eyes. 

“I think you did a lot more than that,” Morrison replies, and Frank feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up and his heart kicking up the pace. “You’re still a pretty young teacher; you’ve only been here for a year, so I think that taking a student under your wing like you did was pretty heroic. I highly doubt that just anyone would have done the same and, even if some old fart would have, I don’t think they could have gotten Gerard to trust them so much.”

“Yeah, well,” Frank says, because he really has no idea what to say. There’s something about the way Morrison is looking at him, and maybe the tone of his voice, or the way he is actually not eating despite being in the teacher’s lounge during lunch, that makes Frank feel like he knows more than he’s letting on. “He’s a great kid,” he says at last. “Wouldn’t want him to get hurt again.”

“He really is, isn’t he?” There’s this gleam in his eyes, but Frank doesn’t want to think about what it could mean. “He’s incredibly talented too, and he would do just about anything to get into Art school, wouldn’t he?” Frank nods.

“I just hope that won’t become a problem this year.”

“Of course not. I’ll make sure he gets into Art school, but he’ll be working hard for it himself. He came to me just the first day, you know, telling me about how useless that substitute teacher had been last year, and how behind he felt.”

“Sounds like him,” Frank pitches in with a little grin and gets a surprisingly warm smile in return.

“Yes, and that brings me to what I actually came here to talk to you about.” Frank pokes around at his pasta and waits for Morrison to go on. “He’s taking this whole thing very seriously, staying after school every day to practice one thing or another, and I was thinking that maybe you’d want to stop by some time and have a little chat with him.”

Frank’s first instinct is to just give him a straight no, but he stops himself, knowing how weird that would be. After all, he’s supposed to be the good guy, the nice, young teacher who had been there for the kid who had no one else to turn to. There isn’t supposed to be anything weird going on between them. “I’m not sure Gerard would want me there, he’d complain that I’m in the way and disturbing him.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Morrison says, and Frank gets that feeling again, like Morrison knows things he shouldn’t, things that could get Frank in a lot of trouble. “I think we both know that there are things Gerard still needs to talk about, and that he needs to talk to you.”

Frank doesn’t say anything because the only thing he can think of is no, but he knows that nothing will sound more suspicious than that.

“I’m not here to force you to come, though, just to extend you an invitation. You’re welcome any time.” He gets up and leaves, and Frank is suddenly aware that the room is empty except for him. He pokes around at his pasta for a little while longer before giving up on his appetite and shoving his lunch box back in his bag to head back to his classroom just before the bell rings.

*

Frank calls Aaron later that night, and he can’t help freaking out because this new Art teacher obviously knows. Gerard must have told him.

“But why would he tell him?” Aaron asks. “That doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t done anything before to get you in trouble.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to get back at me for rejecting him?” Frank is smoking out of the kitchen window again and shudders as a cold gust of wind hits him in the face.

“But this Morrison guy, he didn’t say anything straight out about knowing, did he? He didn’t just come out and threaten you? Maybe he doesn’t know at all?” Aaron says, and it takes a moment for Frank to get what he’s implying, but by the time he’s ready to reply, Aaron’s saying, “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but it could be a little bit of paranoia speaking. Maybe he really just wants you to talk to Gerard and sort shit out. Maybe he can just sense that there’s some unresolved shit between the two of you?”

Frank doesn’t say anything for a while, just sits there, smoking in silence as rain starts to fall outside, pattering lightly against the open window. The thing is that he wants Aaron to be right, but he can’t help but feel like there was more than just meaning well behind that look in Morrison’s eyes. There was knowledge; Frank is sure of it, but that isn’t helping him figure out what to do.

“What do you think I should do?”

Aaron hesitates before speaking again. “I know you don’t want to talk to Gerard, but I think you might have to. Go and see him after class, in the Art room. You don’t have to go right away, give it some time. Who knows, maybe everything will die down for real? But if it doesn’t, you have to see him, Frank. If not for anything else, but so you can have closure and move on.”

They hang up a little while later and Frank finishes his last smoke and closes the window before getting ready for bed. It doesn’t strike him until he’s brushing his teeth that there’s one possibility that he’s looked past and didn’t bring up when he was talking to Aaron. It doesn’t really make sense, and Frank is almost sure this is not how it is. If there’s anything going on between Gerard and this new teacher, there would be no reason for Morrison to try and get Frank to talk to Gerard, so it’s very unlikely. Still, Frank can’t seem to get it out of his head.

*

With the idea of yet another teacher taking advantage of Gerard stuck in his head, Frank would like to go and see him right away, but after telling Aaron about his new suspicions, Aaron tells him that giving it time is definitely the thing to do. Frank gets mad about that at first because Aaron doesn’t seem to understand that, if Frank’s suspicions are right, Gerard could be getting molested and taken advantage of right now, but Aaron reminds him that there isn’t actually anything pointing toward that.

Frank gives it a month. It’s weird because the first three weeks he often finds himself wanting to go to the Art room anyway, but the last week before going there he keeps putting it off. Gerard remains rather invisible in class, and Frank hasn’t seen Morrison around much. However, when he has seen him, he’s always looking at Frank in this way that makes him feel really uncomfortable, kind of like he’s challenging him. 

Frank is jealous. It doesn’t even matter whether there’s anything going on between Gerard and Morrison or not; Frank is jealous because they’re spending so much time together. Wanting to know is what made him want to go there before, but now the fear of what he might find is keeping him away.

There’s none of that when he finally knocks on the door to the Art classroom one rainy Thursday, though. Someone calls, “Come in,” so he enters, only taking a final deep breath before doing so. He can’t help but think about the last time he entered this classroom, and looks around immediately, but Gerard is not in the corner stripping, and Morrison is not standing at a table going through a folder of nude drawings of a sixteen year old. When he looks around, Frank finds them both in the far corner to his right, he sees Gerard standing in front of a large easel and canvas, wearing some ratty and paint-stained old clothes while Morrison is standing just next to him. He seems to be commenting on Gerard’s brush-strokes or something else Art-related, wearing equally worn-out and stained clothes, but still managing to look… classy, in lack of a better word. 

“Ah, Mr. Iero, how good of you to join us!” Morrison calls over his shoulder, and Frank can’t help but notice how he deliberately keeps one hand at the small of Gerard’s back, even as Gerard whips around to look at him, surprise written all over his face.

“Frank?” He seems embarrassed, judging by his flushed face and flickering gaze, but Frank looks past him as he steps closer. He doesn’t know much about Art, so he can’t really tell what Gerard is painting, but it’s curvy and colorful, and Frank figures that modern Art is as good a label as any.

“Yeah, my curiosity got the best of me. Don’t let me bother you, though. Just pretend I’m not here.” Frank gives a little wave and looks around the room, having stopped in the middle of it.

“That’s alright. Maybe you can look around the classroom, see what Gerard and some other students have done so far this year.” Frank does just that and finds that most of the paintings, drawings and sculptures that are ‘exhibited’ around the walls of the room are made by none other than Gerard, and they’re all amazing. 

There are some beautiful lifelike sculptures of humans and animals as well as charcoal paintings of landscapes and faces and—Mr. Morrison. It’s a rather beautiful portrait, not like any other Frank has ever seen, not from straight ahead, and a little from above, and with the subject looking away, smiling at something. It might as well be a black and white photograph. 

Frank moves on, finds some paraphrases of paintings he recognizes, but can’t name. All he knows is that the originals are of nude women, and these are of men instead. Frank feels himself flush at the idea of Gerard painting these, supervised by this older man Frank doesn’t know but who is supposedly aware of what Gerard’s old Art teacher did to him. 

He turns to look at them across the room and is shocked to find how close Morrison is standing to Gerard. He had noticed the first time they met how tall the Art teacher is, but now he looks even taller, pressed up against Gerard’s back and leaning in to whisper in his hair, one hand steadying Gerard’s as he paints, the other one pressing against Gerard’s chest. Frank’s body temperature drops several degrees. He’s ready to step in, to break this up, to save Gerard again, but then Gerard laughs, and Frank knows that sound, knows it means he’s happy. “Grant, stop it. I’m not slouching.” 

“You are, you’re going to ruin your back. Not to mention how you have better control of your hand if your posture is steadier.” Frank watches as Gerard turns in Morrison’s embrace and their faces are so close, and Frank knows it; they’re going to kiss. 

“Mr. Morrison, could I have a word with you?” They break apart and Gerard looks absolutely petrified for a moment. 

“Frank—” 

“Of course.” They step out into the hallway and Frank’s blood is boiling. 

“What the fuck was that? What the hell are you doing? And why did you want me here?” Frank is practically shouting, but he doesn’t care, he’s just so fucking angry.

“I wanted you to see that he’s happy now. Isn’t that what you wanted? Even after hurting him? After turning him away?” Morrison is completely calm, his voice quiet and even, and his face looks stern like he’s glaring at Frank but hiding it really well.

“I did the right thing!” Frank has managed to calm down a little, but his voice is still way too loud, and he can only hope there’s no one else lurking in the corridor who can overhear them. It probably won’t end well for either of them if there is.

“Is that what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better?”

“He’s seventeen! That’s the only thing that’s relevant, so yeah, I tell myself that I did the right thing.” 

“He’s really mature for his age, you know. He knows what he wants. But of course you’ve only ever seen him as some stupid child who needs your protection and who can’t make decisions on his own.” Something dark flashes in Morrison’s eyes as he snaps at Frank, who takes a step back. 

“Mature or not, he’s still a child.” Frank finally manages to get his voice under control, volume-wise at least. “What you’re doing is wrong.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing? What are you going to do to stop it? Are you gonna go to the Principal again? Get rid of another Art teacher and ruin Gerard’s chances of getting into a good Art school? Or do you care enough about him to let it slide?” Morrison pauses for a long moment and, when Frank is still too stunned to speak, he continues, “What makes your way of acting so much better anyway? Stop pretending like you’re such a saint when it’s obvious that you only turned him down to protect yourself.”

Frank doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He just leaves.

*

Frank goes straight home, his head practically spinning with all the thoughts going through it. He probably breaks the speed limit a couple of times and very nearly runs a red light, and he doesn’t even care because all he can think about is everything Morrison said, everything he insinuated, everything that, deep down, Frank knows that he can’t actually deny. 

Going to the Principal and reporting Morrison for suspicious behavior toward Gerard won’t help Gerard, even if that would be the right thing to do. It would only break Gerard’s heart, in more ways than one, and for what? To make Frank feel like a good guy, like he’s doing the right thing, like he’s making up for having feelings for Gerard in the first place?

Morrison had been right about one thing, and Frank knows it. Rejecting Gerard hadn’t been about protecting Gerard, but himself. This spring, when he had turned Gerard away, he had cared more about his job than Gerard’s wellbeing. He’s not sure if that’s still the case; everything’s gotten so mixed up with everything else. The only thing he’s sure of is that he can’t stop thinking about Gerard, and that he really doesn’t want Gerard to be with Grant Morrison.

*

He asks Gerard to stay after class the next day so that they can talk, but he can’t help but hesitate the moment the classroom empties and Gerard walks up to him. He looks pale and frightened, just like that day in Schechter’s office, clutching his book bag in his hands. Frank can’t decide whether he wants to run or pull Gerard protectively close and never let him go.

Gerard looks beautiful, that much Frank knows. Frank thinks he might have grown an inch or two over the summer, or maybe he lost a few pounds; his cheekbones seem more defined. He looks older, more mature and certainly more tempting. Frank can’t help but think about what Morrison told him yesterday; _“He’s really mature for his age, you know. He knows what he wants.”_

“Gerard, you need to tell me if there’s anything going on,” Frank says, walking around his desk and leaning back against it. “If Morrison… if he’s doing anything you don’t want him to, anything he shouldn’t be doing, anything inappropriate…” Frank trails off, looking over at Gerard who’s staring back at him, eyes wide. “You can still talk to me. If that man is hurting you, or using you…”

“It’s not like that, Frank. Grant’s not like that.” Gerard’s voice is quiet and familiar and Frank has missed it more than he wants to admit. 

“Not like what?” Frank retorts. “Not like Collins? Or…” He hesitates, practically staring Gerard down before finishing, “Or not like me?”

“He’s not like either of you,” Gerard says, almost pleadingly. “He’s just a friend. A friend who I can talk to about anything and everything and who won’t judge or tell me off for being too young.”

“I was that. I can be that again,” Frank finds himself saying, but Gerard shakes his head.

“I don’t want you for a friend. And you don’t want that either.”

“But Morrison, he— I saw the way he touched you. The way you looked at each other.”

“He really is just a friend,” Gerard insists. “I can’t say I expect you to believe me, but that is the truth.”

“Gerard,” Frank starts, and there are many ways that he’d like to continue, but he glances to his side and the clock on the wall and realizes that his next class starts in just a couple of minutes. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation here. Not now.”

“Can I come to your place later?” Gerard asks. “Just to talk.”

Frank knows he should say no; he can feel all the resolve he’s built up just crumbling to pieces, but he also knows that they need to talk, and his apartment is definitely better suited for that than his classroom in the middle of the day. He just wishes he knew what would come out of it.

“Yes, fine.”

*

He means to call Aaron when he gets home to update him on everything that has happened since yesterday afternoon, but he has to stay at work later than he had planned and, when he finally gets home and is able to make the call, Aaron won’t pick up. Gerard is there a couple of minutes later and, when Frank lets him in, he still seems nervous, but he isn’t quite as pale. He looks around a little, probably noting that nothing has changed since the last time he was there, and Frank can see him visibly relaxing. 

“Do you want coffee or something?” Frank asks and Gerard nods as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it up next to Frank’s. Gerard toes off his shoes and Frank leads the way to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee before leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Gerard is mirroring his position, leaning back against Frank’s tiny kitchen table, and it strikes Frank again how much older Gerard looks, even though it’s only been six months. 

They stare at each other in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the coffeemaker. Frank doesn’t know what to say, and then he doesn’t need to because Gerard breaks the silence. “There’s nothing sexual going on between me and Grant.”

Frank is speechless and Gerard’s face is flushed dark red and he looks utterly shocked, like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” Gerard asks and then continues, his face quickly fading back to pale white. “He really is just a friend. Listen, he heard about what happened last year, with Collins and shit, and about how you were there for me, and Grant and I talked a lot and I think he got a pretty good read on me. He asked me about you and I guess I talked a little too much at first, and he got curious as to why we stopped hanging out.” Gerard waves his hands through the air before running them through his hair.

“He figured it out, Frank.” Frank sighs. “He asked me about it and I told him how I feel about you, and then he just looked at me like he knew. And he didn’t bring it up for a week or so, and then he said he’d help me, that he’d get you to talk to me.”

“That’s what yesterday was for?” Frank asks stupidly. 

“Yeah. He thought that it would either get you jealous or angry because you’d think he was using me. I didn’t want to because I didn’t want him to put his career on the line. But he was right, wasn’t he?”

Frank nods. “I’ve been jealous for a while, actually,” he admits. “After he came and talked to me, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the time you were spending with him, and I wondered just how close you were. I was jealous because I thought that maybe he doesn’t have the same barriers that I do, and that maybe he could let himself be with you without thinking too much about it.”

Gerard makes a soft little noise, but doesn’t speak.

“And that got me so mad because I thought he might hurt you, that he might not respect you enough and I…” Frank squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe steadily and, when he opens them, Gerard is there, just inches from his face. His hands are on Frank’s arms, loosening them until he’s relaxing and his arms are just hanging down his sides, Gerard’s fingers still running up and down them. Gerard’s hair is hanging in his face as he leans in and touches his lips to Frank’s. It takes a second for him to react, but then Frank’s eyes fall shut and he presses forward, catching Gerard’s bottom lip between his.

Gerard draws back a little and Frank opens his eyes and looks at him; they’re so close he could probably count Gerard’s eyelashes if he wanted to. He doesn’t, though. He just reaches out and cups Gerard’s jaw in one hand, tracing his lips with his thumb, trying to sort out what he wants to do and what he should do, and somehow find a balance. He should put his foot down and back off, he should tell Gerard once and for all that this can’t happen, but he’s not surprised to find that he really doesn’t want to.

He curls his hand around Gerard’s neck as he reaches up and initiates the second kiss, tilting Gerard’s head down to meet his at a better angle while his other hand comes up to Gerard’s shoulder. The kiss starts out slow, almost chaste, but Frank parts his lips, inviting Gerard in. He feels Gerard’s hands coming up around him and the grip tightens quickly as Frank wraps his arms around Gerard’s neck and slips his tongue into Gerard’s hot, wet mouth. Gerard lets out a soft moan and presses closer, moving one hand up to tangle in Frank’s hair and the other one down to slip in under Frank’s shirt.

It’s Frank’s turn to groan at the unexpected touch before pushing Gerard away just far enough to get room to hop up on the countertop. Gerard steps in between his knees and kisses Frank again, fumbling to loosen the tie Frank hadn’t even had time to take off before Gerard had come over. Frank unzips Gerard’s hoodie and hurries to push his hands in under it, not even caring that there is a t-shirt in the way because he can still feel the soft flesh and hard muscle and bone underneath.

They break the kiss so Gerard can lift the tie over Frank’s head, and then Frank just watches Gerard’s face as the teenager focuses on undoing the tiny buttons of Frank’s shirt. Then Gerard looks up at him and just stops for a long moment, before smiling and reaching up with both hands to pull Frank’s hair out of his face.

“I love your hair, you know?” he whispers, brushing his lips against Frank’s. “It’s always falling in your face, and it makes my fingers itch to push it back, and try to tuck it behind your ears even though it’s too short. I just wanna run my fingers through it over and over again.”

Frank doesn’t know what to say, so he simply kisses Gerard again. Gerard makes a soft noise against his mouth but kisses back, carding his fingers through Frank’s hair some more while Frank wraps his arms around Gerard, under his hoodie, pulling him close and just enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed so close.

He pulls away when Gerard starts to grind against him, though. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed Gerard’s hard dick against him, or that he isn’t hard himself, but he’s a little surprised that Gerard is so eager to move on.

“Gerard, wait, stop.” Gerard freezes, hands still on Frank’s hips as he withdraws a little and looks up at Frank. The look on his face almost breaks Frank’s heart, and he reaches out to cup Gerard’s face, keeping him close. “I just think we got a little carried away.”

Gerard looks at him desolatedly, like he’s expecting Frank to ask him to leave and not come back.

“I’m just not ready to go there with you, because I’m not sure you’re ready to go there at all.” Frank rests his forehead against Gerard’s, stroking his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I’d just like to talk some more first.”

“Frank, I’m not a kid.”

“No, but you’re seventeen. And I’m more than a decade older than you. And if we’re doing this, I want to do it right.” After a long moment of silence, Gerard sighs, leans in and presses his face into Frank’s neck, wrapping his arms around Frank, who rests his head on top of Gerard’s and holds him close.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” Frank says after a while. “If you still want some.” Gerard snorts and pulls away.

“Yeah, I still want some.” Gerard steps back and gets the milk from the fridge as Frank slides down from the countertop and gets his favorite mugs out and pours the coffee, hoping it’s not too bitter.

Frank half expects things to be awkward now because things have changed between them, but for Gerard it seems to be the opposite because he’s bubbly and happy and touches Frank every chance he gets. Frank is almost afraid to do anything unless Gerard initiates it, now that they’re no longer kissing or completely entwined, but when Gerard’s knuckles brush his as they’re taking their mugs, Frank can’t help but smile.

They sit on the couch—close, but not too close, because Frank still wants to talk, and he suspects that sitting too close will lead to touching and kissing and bad decision-making. Not that that can’t still happen.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, just looking at each other. Eventually, Gerard’s fingers touch Frank’s hand where it’s lying between them on the couch, and Frank moves it so the palm is facing up and Gerard starts tracing the lines and up and down his fingers. 

“What will it take to get you to trust me?” Gerard asks after a moment, and Frank is completely taken aback. “Grant trusts me. When he figured it all out, he didn’t hesitate for a second, he never thought that maybe you and I shouldn’t be together. He says that people fall in love for a reason, and if that reason isn’t to be together than it was never love in the first place.”

“Gerard, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust myself.” Gerard stops moving his fingers over Frank’s hand and looks away.

“But you don’t trust me. You don’t think I’m taking it seriously enough. You don’t think I can keep it a secret.”

“With all due respect, Morrison figured it out after spending what, five minutes with you?” Frank says, sounding a lot harsher than he meant to.

“He only figured it out because I let him. I could have told him he was wrong, but I didn’t because I trusted that he would trust me.”

“What if you had been wrong? What if he had reported it? It wouldn’t matter that nothing has happened because suspicions can be all it takes in cases like this. You trusted someone you didn’t know.”

“I knew him well enough.” Gerard looks up at him again, a playful smile on his face. “You just admitted that you don’t trust me. But that’s okay because we can work on that. And don’t be too hard on yourself. Grant already told me that if you hurt me again, he will make sure no one ever finds your body.” Frank can’t believe Gerard actually keeps a straight face through all of that because it’s so bizarre that he starts to laugh himself.

Gerard just giggles softly and takes Frank’s mug from his hand and puts it on the coffee table next to his own. “You don’t trust yourself, I get that. Grant doesn’t trust you either, but I do, and he trusts my judgment. I hope that you will too, sooner rather than later.” Gerard kisses him softly, and Frank decides that that’s enough talking, and kisses back. Gerard presses closer instantly, and catches Frank by surprise when he moves to straddle Frank’s lap.

“Gerard,” Frank whispers, but Gerard runs his hands through Frank’s hair, tilting his head back, and kisses him again. Frank can’t breathe; he doesn’t need to breathe, the kiss is that good. He licks into Gerard’s mouth and it tastes a little like coffee, but more like something else, something sweet. Frank’s hardly aware of what his hands are doing until Gerard’s hands disappear because he’s shrugging out of his hoodie which Frank has been pushing down his arms. And then Gerard’s arms are bare and Frank is touching some skin and he feels way too hot all of a sudden and has to break away.

“Wait, just…” he says, almost out of breath, pressing his hands against Gerard’s chest and then cupping his face and then back down to his chest.

“Frank, please. Just…” Gerard all but begs, his hard-on evident in his jeans. “Do something. Anything. I don’t care. Whatever you think we’re ready for. I trust you.” 

That does it for Frank. He kisses Gerard once, twice, three more times, touching him everywhere he can reach, before opening his eyes and just looking at Gerard. It’s like he’s seeing him for the first time, as if it’s only now that Frank is realizing that there is a beautiful, hot young man sitting on his lap, telling Frank that he wants him.

“We should go to my bedroom.” Gerard nods and immediately gets off of Frank’s lap, knocking into the coffee table so hard the coffee in Frank’s abandoned mug almost sloshes over and spills onto the table. He giggles, cheeks flushing a soft pink, and Frank stands up and pulls him toward the bedroom because he can’t—won’t—wait any longer.

When they’re in there, Gerard sits down at the edge of the bed, watching Frank as he undoes the buttons of his shirt and shrugs it off, leaving it on the floor as he walks up to Gerard, still wearing his undershirt. He can see Gerard’s eyes getting drawn to the tattoos on his arms, and he isn’t surprised when he feels hands pushing the hem of his t-shirt up. Gerard has seen him in sleeveless shirts before, Frank used to wear them all the time when Gerard would come over to hang out, but Frank is pretty sure he’s never seen him shirtless.

When Frank pulls his shirt up and off, Gerard’s fingers are tracing the lines over his hips and stomach at once; reading the words with his fingertips and drinking in the pictures of birds with his eyes. And lips.

Frank weaves his hands through Gerard’s long hair and gently tilts his head up to seek out those bright, earnest eyes of his. His lips are red, a little swollen after all the kissing, and his cheeks are still pink.

“Move back and lie down, okay?” Frank asks quietly and Gerard does. He lies back against the pillows, on top of the covers; the bedspread is somewhere on the floor, Frank had been in a hurry this morning and hadn’t put it on. Gerard looks beautiful, his allover expression a mix of nervous and turned on, and Frank hurries to tug his pants down and off before joining Gerard on the bed. He keeps his boxer briefs on, but Gerard’s eyes still go wide.

“You okay?” Frank whispers, lying on his side next to Gerard, who rolls over to face him and nods. “You have to tell me if you’re not. It’s okay.” He leans forward and kisses Gerard, placing one hand on his neck, and Gerard seems to relax instantly. 

“Wanna take your shirt off?”

Gerard doesn’t answer but sits up and pulls it over his head, leaving his hair incredibly messy, not that it wasn’t messy before too. Frank sits up as well, running a hand down the center of Gerard’s chest and belly, all the way down to his bellybutton. He doesn’t have much of a treasure trail and the hair on his chest is sparse too, and somehow it’s just right. Gerard lies back down, and Frank climbs on top of him, one thigh on either side of Gerard’s hips. Gerard’s arms are just resting against the bed and Frank catches his hands, pulling them up and pressing them down into the pillows above Gerard’s head as he leans in and kisses him on the lips, and then his chin, throat and collarbone.

“Frank,” Gerard whispers breathlessly and Frank hums into his skin and shifts a little, easing the pressure on Gerard’s middle. He lets go of Gerard’s hands, running his fingers down his arms as he keeps kissing his way down Gerard’s body, keeping a straight line down his sternum and stomach. Gerard does a sharp intake of breath when Frank dips his tongue into his bellybutton before moving back up. He licks over the left nipple and sucks on it as it hardens, thumbing the other one hard as he looks up at Gerard who looks like he’s seconds away from coming in his pants.

“You should… you should take off my jeans,” Gerard whispers and Frank pulls his mouth off Gerard but pinches his nipple before moving to the side again so he can undo Gerard’s jeans and let Gerard wriggle out of them.

Gerard’s nerves seem to have worn off because he kicks his underwear off along with the jeans and doesn’t even flush, even though his fully hard cock is standing up over his belly, long and thick and dark red, the head shiny with pre-come. Frank licks his lips and he can feel his own dick twitch at the sight, because fuck… _fuck._

“God, you’re so big,” he whispers, taking Gerard’s cock in his hand and jacking it a few times as he leans close to Gerard’s face, kissing him lightly, again and again.

“Yeah?” Gerard whispers, sounding almost relieved. “You like it?” Frank almost laughs, it’s such an absurd question because what the fuck is not to like?

“Yes. Yes, I fucking like it. Fuck.” Frank moves back down Gerard’s body, kissing and licking his way there, pausing to bite a nipple, before finally closing his lips around the tip of Gerard’s cock. He looks up at Gerard as he does so and moans softly at the sight of Gerard’s face twisted up in pleasure. His hands are fisted in the sheets, and Frank takes them and places them in his hair and on the back of his neck. He doesn’t regret it; Gerard running his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face feels amazing, and Gerard clearly loves it because he’s looking down at him now.

He sucks lightly on the head before running his mouth and tongue up and down the side, teasing a little, before taking Gerard into his mouth again, sucking harder and adding a hand around the base. Gerard starts rocking up against him, gasping softly, and Frank uses his tongue more, pressing up rhythmically and licking over the slit, taking note of how Gerard’s hand tightens in his hair when he does. When he thinks Gerard is getting close, he mostly pulls off, keeping just the head in his mouth and jacking him with his hand. He moves his other hand down to Gerard’s balls and it makes him moan loudly, and Frank just has time to think it’s the first real moan since he started sucking Gerard’s dick before Gerard shoots his load down his throat.

Frank swallows it all and keeps sucking until Gerard’s hands relaxes in his hair and tugs him back up. Frank slides against Gerard’s hip and moans, only now taking note of how ridiculously hard he is. He kisses Gerard, pushing his tongue in, groaning as Gerard sucks on it before moaning too.

“Fuck, I can taste myself,” he whispers, eyes wide with surprise. “That’s so fucking hot.”

“Yeah,” Frank says, humming a little as he reaches down to shove his underwear down his thighs. “You know what else is hot?” He presses his forehead into Gerard’s neck as he wraps his hand around his dick, pumping it slowly at first, and then Gerard moans right in his ear, signaling that he does know.

“Oh god. Fuck. Let me.” Gerard rolls them over so they’re on their sides and Frank is not complaining because a second later, Gerard’s got a hand on his cock, and it’s wet, like he spit on it or something, and Frank doesn’t know what to think, or how to, or even what breathing _is._

“Yes, fuck, Gerard. Just. Like that,” Frank is gasping, moaning, face still buried in Gerard’s neck and hands clutching Gerard’s sides, eyes squeezed shut. 

“So hot, Frank, you’re so fucking hot. Oh god, your cock, fuck. I wanna see you come.” Gerard won’t have to wait long because Frank can already feel the build-up deep in his belly and the hot rush is too much. Everything is out of his control and then he’s coming all over Gerard’s hand.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath afterward, and Gerard thankfully doesn’t move any further than taking his hand off Frank’s softening dick. “That was really great,” he whispers, and he can feel Gerard nodding.

“Yeah.” Frank draws back and angles his head so he can reach Gerard’s mouth, kissing him softly.

“Not too much, right?”

“Definitely not.”

They stay like that for another ten minutes, but Frank is starting to feel a little gross with his come everywhere and he thinks Gerard might be falling asleep, so he forces himself to get up and kick his boxers all the way off. He cleans himself up in the bathroom and puts on new underwear before bringing a damp hand towel back to clean Gerard off and, by the time he’s done, Gerard is fast asleep. He spreads a blanket over Gerard and puts on some sweatpants and an old t-shirt before going out to the kitchen.

He picks up his cell phone on the hallway table and sees that he’s got not only one but two missed calls from Aaron. He sits at the kitchen table, and doesn’t get through the first time he calls, but when he tries five minutes later Aaron finally picks up.

“Hey, it’s me,” he says, and doesn’t really know how to continue. So much has happened and changed since he tried to call Aaron earlier, and now he still needs to tell him the whole story about what happened yesterday when he saw Gerard and Morrison—Gerard and Grant— in the Art classroom.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Everything?” Frank says, uncertain of where to start, but then he starts from the beginning about yesterday, and everything else just comes tumbling out, somewhat in order. Frank has to repeat himself a couple of times when it doesn’t make sense, but in the end he’s pretty sure Aaron gets the gist of it and they both fall into silence. Aaron because he’s probably shocked, and Frank because, without Gerard right there next to him, he’s looking at everything from a very different, non-biased perspective.

“Frank, I…” Aaron breaks the silence after several minutes, and Frank only shakes his head at himself.

“I know. I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to say anything.” Aaron remains silent. “I’m just hoping I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life.”

At that moment, Gerard enters the kitchen, his hair standing up in all directions and wearing boxers and Frank’s shirt. He looks gorgeous, but his face is far from happy.

“I gotta go,” Frank tells Aaron and doesn’t wait for a reply before ending the call and putting his phone down on the table. Gerard sits down on the chair opposite of Frank, not looking at him.

“Who were you talking to?”

“My ex, Aaron,” Frank replies. “Though I guess I should start calling him my friend, or even best friend, because that’s what he is.” He looks at Gerard, hoping that he at least gets _that_.

“You were talking about me.” Gerard doesn’t sound like he’s accusing Frank of anything, but that’s almost worse because then Frank can’t really defend himself either.

“Yeah.”

“So, do you think I am?” Gerard asks. “A mistake?”

“I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell,” Frank says honestly. “But I hope not.”

*

**March**

Frank curses the cold and his shitty car as he staggers and slips across the still icy parking lot and into the school only a couple of hours after having left. He heads toward the Art classroom and is surprised to find a lot more people there than he had expected, the air buzzing with pleasant chattering. He finds Grant right away, because he‘s standing just a few steps inside the door and, when he spots Frank, he arches an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry I’m late, my piece of shit car wouldn’t start,” Frank says, shrugging out of his coat as he scans the room for Gerard.

“How many times have I told you to get a new one?” Grant asks Frank, but smiles at the elderly couple who are probably some student’s grandparents walking past. “One day there is going to be an emergency and your car won’t start and someone might get hurt.”

“Give me the money so I can afford a new car, and I’ll be happy to buy one.” Frank glares at Grant.

“Maybe Gerard can help you with that. Some people have already asked to buy two of his paintings.”

“Really?” It’s not that Frank is surprised that someone wants to buy Gerard’s Art, but it’s still just a High School Art exhibition. Frank is sure the only people attending an event like this are supposed to be parents and grandparents and other students, not Art collectors or critics or anyone else who might ask to buy a piece. Frank had helped out setting everything up this afternoon and, although there’s another ten senior students exhibiting a few items, Gerard’s things took up more than half of the room and it’s obvious who the star is.

“Yes, and apparently Andrew’s uncle owns a gallery in New York and wants to show something of Gerard’s there.” Grant’s face is practically glowing with pride and his accent comes out stronger than usual due to his obvious excitement.

“That’s great. What does Gerard think?”

“I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet,” Grant says, and Frank finally spots Gerard as the crowd shifts. He’s with his family, looking like he’s telling his little brother about one of his paintings, his face just one big grin, looking more excited than Frank has ever seen him.

“This is what he’s meant to do, isn’t it?” Frank asks, and Grant just nods.

*

“I still can’t believe I actually sold three paintings,” Gerard says for the hundredth time as Grant, Gerard and Frank all step into the elevator in Grant’s apartment building. “And I’m getting two hundred and fifty bucks for all of them. That’s insane.” Frank takes his hand, lacing their fingers, because he still doesn’t know what to say, and he knows that he doesn’t need to say anything when Gerard smiles at him. 

“Maybe you can’t believe it, but I certainly can,” Grant says as the elevator stops and they all step out.

“Me too,” Frank says, grinning and wrapping an arm around Gerard’s waist. The moment they’re inside Grant’s apartment, Gerard leans in and kisses Frank, who surges up against him, hands on Gerard’s face holding him in place.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” Gerard whispers, still so close his lips brush against Frank’s. He only has to press forward a couple of millimeters to kiss Gerard again, slip his tongue into Gerard’s mouth and taste him.

“Are you two just going to stand there all night, or are you gonna help me cook?” Grant shouts from inside the kitchen and Frank pulls back, smiling at Gerard.

Most of the time, Frank is completely overwhelmed with how grateful he is that everything has worked out so well, but at the moment he’s just happy to be with Gerard. Gerard’s close friendship with Grant had turned out to be the best possible thing when it came to keeping their relationship a secret. For example, tonight Gerard had told his parents that all the kids taking part in the exhibition were going out for dinner afterwards, along with Grant. It hadn’t been a hard sell at all since the Art group did things together all the time, only it was never so much the Art group as just Frank and Gerard and Grant.

Frank and Gerard still managed to spend a lot of time together on their own in Frank’s apartment, but Frank doesn’t think he could ever have a relationship that was just that. No matter how much he cares about Gerard, having a secret that big with only the two of them knowing would have been too much, it would have seemed unreal eventually. Just being around Grant makes Frank appreciate everything so much more, and he definitely appreciates having Grant as a friend.

That’s not to say he didn’t struggle with trusting Grant in the beginning, though. He wanted to trust him because Gerard did so whole-heartedly, but back then Frank still didn’t know Grant, and he had a particularly hard time trusting Grant to be alone with Gerard. He just couldn’t forget about that day in the Art room and the way they had looked at each other, and Frank was convinced that neither of them was good enough at acting that all of it was fake. Grant was always respectful, though, as well as supportive and kind and, along with Aaron, he became one of the people Frank trusts most. He’s definitely one of Frank’s closest friends.

“The pasta won’t boil itself, you know,” Grant points out from the kitchen, and Frank and Gerard finally join him chopping vegetables and putting the pasta in the water.

“Hey, my mom said something really funny earlier, about you two,” Gerard says a few minutes later after retiring from the cooking. He’s leaning against the counter and smiles when Frank looks up at him.

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“She asked me if you’re dating.” Gerard makes a face but laughs, and Frank kind of just freezes, which results in Grant knocking into him.

“And what did you tell her?”

Gerard looks a little flushed at that, saying, “That I don’t know? I mean, I’m not supposed to know, am I? I mean, if Frank and I weren’t… I wouldn’t know.” Gerard looks really flustered now, so Frank just shakes his head.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He looks up at Grant who is grinning, and he can’t help thinking about it. He thinks that maybe he should feel weird about it, but he can’t say he does. “You’re right, though; it is kinda funny.”

Gerard smiles and pulls Frank close, kissing him again, and again, and Frank couldn’t be happier, with or without Gerard’s mother making suggestions and putting ideas in his head. As long as he’s got Gerard, he’s good.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't forget to look at the amazing [art](http://kuriositet.dreamwidth.org/24612.html) by [](http://akamine-chan.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**akamine_chan**](http://akamine-chan.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
> Masterpost on [lj](http://kuriositet.livejournal.com/26190.html)/[dw](http://kuriositet.dreamwidth.org/24981.html).


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